


Starling City Storm

by RickyPine



Series: Spidey & Speedy [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Batman (Movies - Nolan), Constantine (TV), Gotham (TV), Nightwing (Comics), Supergirl (TV 2015), The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amazing Spider-Man, Arrow S3 Spoilers, Atom - Freeform, Batman AU, F/M, Gen, Nightwing - Freeform, Robin - Freeform, The Flash S1 Spoilers, arrowverse, supergirl - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-06-03 14:10:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6613681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RickyPine/pseuds/RickyPine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just as the Central City adventure comes to an end, Spider-Man, the Flash, and Nightwing find themselves starting another. Oliver Queen comes to the city and enlists their help to take on a team of eco-terrorists threatening to destroy Starling City.</p><p>The eco-terrorists will prove shockingly easy to deal with - but there's a bigger threat behind them. And in a city whose streets routinely run slick with mingled rain and blood, the danger is all too real. Will four superheroes be enough to save the day?</p><p>(Part 2 of the Spidey & Speedy Series. This is an alternate universe fic. Set between TASM 1 and 2, after The Flash S1, after Arrow S3, and before TDKR (with canon divergence for all DC properties involved.) Any and all OC's are owned by me. The Amazing Spider-Man is owned by Sony. The Flash and Arrow are owned by DC, WB, and Greg Berlanti. Nightwing is owned by DC. Gotham is owned by Fox, DC, and Bruno Heller. The Dark Knight Saga is owned by WB, DC, and Christopher Nolan. Constantine is owned by NBC, WB, and DC. Batman v Superman and Justice League are owned by WB, DC, and Zack Snyder. Supergirl is owned by CBS, WB, DC, and Greg Berlanti.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Psychos Just Keep Getting Younger

"Hey, Little Ass-Kicker."

"That's Supreme Overlord Little Ass-Kicker to you, brother."

Grayson grinned at the wall, and his eyes flickered in the direction of Peter, Gwen, and Olivia as they bought ice cream sandwiches from Central-Keystone International's nearby Cream store. Olivia approached him and gave him what he ordered - chocolate cookies with a scoop of strawberry between them. Then she left him to his phone chat with his little brother. Of the boys who had ever been any incarnation of Robin, though, Damian was the only one who was Bruce Wayne's biological son, as opposed to adopted like Grayson or Jason or Drake.

"As long as I'm the only one who can get away with ruffling your hair and not wind up black and blue in the face," Grayson snickered, "you'll never be my overlord. Besides, Misha Collins is already my Overlord."

"I thought Bruce was your overlord," said Damian.

Grayson shook his head. "Not really. I mean, he used to be, but ever since the Joker..."

"I know, right?" He could see Damian's bushy eyebrows - so huge for a thirteen-year-old kid - rising up and hiding behind his bangs. Assuming he hadn't cut his hair in the three weeks since Grayson had left Gotham. "Bruce spends so much time honing my fighting spirit," Damian continued, "that he completely neglects his own."

Taking a bite of his ice cream sandwich, Grayson muttered, "Thing about you is, you're an independently awesome dude. You don't need Bruce's approval."

"What if I want his approval?"

"An admirable goal," Grayson conceded.

"What are you eating?" asked Damian.

Grayson nearly choked on the ice cream sandwich. "Uh...sorry, but it's something I can't bring with me to the East Coast."

"Not as good as North Poles Apart, though, is it?"

"Nothing's as good as NPA." Grayson grinned again, wishing he could just be home already to say hi to his brothers again. "Hey, maybe next weekend I'll come back and take you and Drake there with Olivia. And a couple of surprise guests I promised I'd show around town."

"What kind of 'surprise guests?'"

"A certain arachnid fellow and his brainy, beautiful lady love."

"Not Spider-Man?"

Grayson snickered again. "It's a little too late to take back the invite if you don't want-"

"No, no, I want it! I do! I wanna meet Spider-Man!"

The way Damian tried so hard to be mature and cool and collected, and yet he could so easily yield to the same fanboyish ways that sometimes plagued Grayson...it was the most adorable facet of his personality by far.

"Don't slack off on your guitar practice," Grayson said in a fake stern tone, "and maybe we'll talk later, mmmkay?" He cleared his throat and added, "Speaking of which, how's the axe?"

The sounds of a chord came through Grayson's phone. "Can you guess what this is?" asked Damian.

It took Grayson a moment to identify it. "You learned 'Skyfall?'"

"My favorite Bond theme," Damian said.

"When Spider-Man comes to Gotham," Grayson said, "you can play it for him in - huh."

"What's up?"

Grayson tilted his head as he looked in Peter's direction. Barry had just appeared in the middle of the concourse, and he could feel the wind from here. Judging from the look on Barry's face, something really urgent was going on. Urgent enough that Grayson's services were probably required as well.

"I'll, uh, have to call you back, bro," he said. "Say hi to Drake, Alfred, and Bruce for me?"

"You know I will," Damian said.

"I can always count on you. See you soon, Damian."

"Bye." Maybe it was just Grayson's own perception getting distorted, but Damian sounded genuinely sad to say it.

He got up, pocketed his phone, and approached the others. Whatever was about to go down, he wanted to miss none of it.


	2. Snowy Mountain

*****PETER*****

I hardly expect Barry to reappear in our midst mere minutes before the flight back to New York is due to leave, but I take it in stride anyway, as do Gwen and Olivia. "Miss us already?" I ask.

"It's okay," Gwen says, grinning. "We miss you too, Barry. Or, well, we _did._ "

"I really did miss you guys," Barry says, "so you were all fresh in my mind when...when the Arrow came to town and asked me to lend him a hand."

I turn to look at Grayson as he ends his phone call and walks up to us. "A superhero's work is never done, am I right or am I right?"

"I'll toast to that," Grayson jokes, holding his ice cream sandwich in the air. I bump mine with his, nearly breaking my white-chocolate macadamia cookies in the process. Not that they weren't already broken, the paper wrapping around them filling up with peanut butter ice cream.

"You sure this is a good idea?" asks Gwen. "I mean...how are we gonna explain to our parents that we're not coming back home just yet?"

"Uh..." Barry scratches his head.

"Didn't think of that?" I ask. "I thought you were another genius!"

"No, I've thought of an explanation," Barry says, "but I'll just have to run it by the Arrow first."

"You need him to pull it off?" Olivia asks. She bites into her Cream creation - red velvet with pumpkin - and wipes the pale orange liquid off her chin. "Whatever it is, he must be pretty good at it."

"He's something most of us aren't," Barry says. "Rich. Which means he's got resources. Including a hacker who wipes the floor with Cisco any day of the week."

Gwen eats a bit of her ice cream sandwich. Maybe it's because we've just been in a major fight, but she's eating her chocolate-chip and blueberry at such super speed, the cartoony buzz-saw sound effect is more than detectable. "So I guess we've got no choice but to come along with you, huh?" she asks. "And the Arrow, whoever he is, will take care of the rest?"

"Exactly," Barry says. "Other than the 'no choice' part, that is. Of course you guys got a-"

"I choose to come with," I say.

Gwen nods solemnly. "I'll go with Peter."

Olivia and Grayson exchange glances, then nod to Barry as well.

In response, he comes around behind us and drapes one arm over my shoulder, and his other over Gwen's. "Is now a bad time to say I'm-" I begin, but the words slam back into my throat as I experience the true might of Barry's speed force for the first time. The world dissolves in a howl of wind and color, something straight out of _Harry Potter_. When it coalesces into existence once again, we're no longer in the airport, but on a train station platform.

I turn to Gwen as Barry zips away. "You smell smoke?" I ask.

Two seconds later, Barry returns with Grayson and Olivia in tow. The latter looks around, waving her empty hands. "Oh my God, where'd my ice cream go?" Barry disappears and reappears again, this time with her unique ice cream in hand.

"We're still obeying the five-second rule here, right?" Grayson asks.

Barry chuckles. "Any bacteria this thing may have picked up will have succumbed to the friction and fallen off the - okay, I can't bullshit you guys without laughing. Sorry!"

"You can't bullshit anyone, period," says a tall guy walking up behind Barry with a bespectacled blonde girl in tow. "You're too much of a guardian angel. Too honest. Like the time you told me you kissed Felicity."

"Will he ever hear the end of it?" the blonde asks.

"Maybe not," says the guy, who looks a bit familiar to me, "but only 'cause we're friends."

"At least you didn't say 'bros,'" Barry laughs.

It finally dawns on me who our new friend is. "You're...no way. You're...?"

He turns to me and grins, scratching the stubble on his jaw. "Go ahead and fanboy away," he says. "If you're who I think you are, you're used to being on the receiving end of that, aren't you?"

I could easily go into a full-on fangasm meltdown, but I'm not Tallahassee, and this guy ain't Bill Murray, and neither of us exist in the world of _Zombieland._ "You're the Arrow?" I whisper, my voice breaking even as I try and fail to hide the undercurrents of excitement running through my brain. "Oliver Queen is the..." Mind = blown.

The telltale mini-gusts of wind caused by Barry speeding off and coming back buffet my face as he passes around a number of tickets. "There's our train," he says, gesturing to one whose platform bears the name "Starling City" on all the digital signs hanging above it. "We got five minutes, so let's get our luggage on board, huh?"

I adjust my grip on my suitcase, then pull it over to the train. The others follow me, their own wheels making a sort of unbroken hiss as they roll over the tile floor of the platform.

Before we get on board, Barry darts over to Caitlin, who's standing to one side with another tall guy who looks like he could be Oliver's brother. I don't think he has one, though. Of course, that doesn't mean another Queen brother doesn't exist, and he just prefers to stay out of the limelight...and is together with Caitlin? I'm able to surmise that from the fact that he kisses her before letting go of her so she can hug Barry goodbye.

In the meantime, Oliver introduces himself to everyone, along with his girlfriend, Felicity Smoak. "I'm actually not as awkward as usual today," she laughs as she shakes hands with me and Grayson.

"But just you wait until Barry rejoins us," Oliver says.

"You're the only superhero I have eyes for," Felicity says, adjusting her glasses.

They get our names too, along with my code name and Grayson's. Gwen then goes on her phone and checks the weather for our destination. "Good thing I brought a heavy hoodie," she says, taking it out of her suitcase and using it to replace her usual light cardigan.

"It's still raining up there, isn't it?" Felicity groans. "They say Seattle's the wettest city in America, but none of these proverbial 'thems' have ever been to Starling in spring. Even though we're only a couple hours north of Seattle, but that just makes us practically borderline Canada."

"And in winter," Ollie says, "we might as well be in Alaska between Thanksgiving and New Year's." He scoffs. "But of course, you guys are all from the East Coast, right? You shouldn't have much trouble surviving a Starling City storm in the winter."

"Probably not, no," Grayson says.

Barry finishes climbing the steps to the train's upper level (at normal speed this time) and pauses long enough to send a text before taking his seat. "Everyone else knows where we're going now," he says. "Cisco, Wells, Joe, Iris." He then looks at Felicity and adds, "Speaking of knowing where we're going, um...these kids are gonna need their parents" - I don't have the heart to correct him, not now - "to not have any reason to come looking for them when they don't get off the plane at LaGuardia."

Felicity takes one look at me and Gwen. "Just these two? I get the feeling Grayson and Olivia aren't really-"

"It's just a cover," Grayson laughs.

"I thought so. You look college-age, at least."

"We're barely old enough to drink," Olivia says.

Felicity nods. "Good thing the high-speed only goes up to Seattle. I should have plenty of time to fabricate something that'll really stand up to any level of scrutiny. What did you have in mind?"

"Having Peter and Gwen be invited to a Palmer Technologies symposium?"

Hmm. I like this idea, but we really have to sell it. "On what?" I ask. "It has to be something that makes sense for us. Probably something in the neighborhood of cross-species genetics."

"We're not so big on genetics in Starling," Oliver says. "That's more Barry's thing. Metahumans and all that. What about strange chemistry?"

"Hardly the technical term," Gwen says, "but chemistry's a big part of what I do at Oscorp."

"You work at Oscorp?" Oliver asks, tilting his head.

"Just as an intern," Gwen says, "but I think they might promote me soon. When my internship time's up."

Oliver cracks a tiny smile. "Good...good luck with that," he says. "So...chemistry symposium. And I know Palmer's got something planned, some big reveal that might break the laws of that same science, not to mention physics. Good. The more comic-book, the better."

"I can't imagine Palmer's gonna mind too much if I ask him to push his 'big reveal' forward," Felicity says. "Now, if you guys don't mind, I'm gonna be busy fooling the internet into thinking there's a big symposium scheduled for the next three days."

She gets up and moves to another seat, breaks out no less than three tablets, and gets to work. Meanwhile, Barry asks, "So, Ollie, what's happening in your rain-lashed northern wastelands?"

The train finally gets moving, leaving the station and heading up into the mountains north of Central and Keystone Cities. If there were ever a bunch of real "northern wastelands..." "I'm sure you've never seen Lake Dante whenever you've come to town, right?" Oliver asks.

"Not really," Barry says, "'cause it's way outside of Starling, right?"

"Mm-hmm. But that's where our friendly neighborhood eco-terrorists have chosen to strike."

I send a wink Oliver's way, acknowledging his bastardization of one of the many catchphrases New York's journalists have assigned to me. None of them were my idea, but as a Spider-Man of the people, I've decided to run with them anyway.

Oliver takes out his phone and has us look at a picture - a panoramic vista of a lake surrounded by trees. "This was Lake Dante this time a year ago," he says. "It's what it's supposed to look like in April. But this year, this is what we've got." He swipes the screen, switching pictures to one of a snowy day on the same lake. "I took this picture yesterday," he says. "Dante's in his ninth circle, as we say. But remember what I said about Thanksgiving to New Year's being like Alaska? Not spring."

"Is it really that cold?" I ask.

"It's not," Oliver says. "If it's snowing at Dante, then Dante should be frozen solid. Unfrozen lake and snow? That never happens. That's how we know this is artificial."

"Cloud seeding?" Barry suggests.

"Something like that," Oliver says, pulling his phone back, "but much more efficient than any cloud seeding I've ever seen."

"Refresh my memory," asks Olivia, the least scientifically-inclined of our group, "but what's cloud seeding again?"

"Basically," Grayson says, "it's when you put chemicals in the clouds and make them either rain more or less. It lets you change the weather."

"Funny," Barry says, "you'd think they'd try that in California sometime. Take care of the endless drought we've been having."

I clear my throat. "I promise, as soon as we get back home, we'll send some rain out west. Just give us your bank account number, and I'll take care of the wire-transfer."

Oliver shakes his head. "We've got more rain to send from Starling. I'll handle it, Peter." He bites his lip for a second. "As long as it's not infected with whatever these eco-terrorists are using to seed the clouds."

"These eco-terrorists," Barry asks, "are they metas or regular humans?"

"Regular," Oliver says. "We think. We still haven't seen one. But they've sent us a video claiming responsibility for the snow days at Lake Dante." He shows us this video, which runs like fairly standard terrorist stuff - one speaker, kept in silhouette so his (or her) face is invisible, their voice scrambled by a filter. Behind them, a flag. Pretty simple, nothing with any crudely finger-painted ISIS manifestos. It's just a solid green banner, which I don't think has been seen anywhere since the death of Gadhafi. "They're American too," Oliver says, speaking over the whole "blah blah, threat threat, all your base are belong to us" spiel. "The one thing they can't hide with these voice filters is their accents. And they're local, too. Listen..."

He plays the video back for a second, allowing the terrorist to say, " _Dante's in his ninth circle until our demands are met. More to come in our next video - five o'clock tomorrow. The city will freeze, and then it'll burn. And we'll be among you, watching it happen._ "

Okay, call me chilled. "When was this sent?" I ask.

"Yesterday at five," Oliver says. "Which means we'll be getting the next video when we're halfway back to the city." He checks his watch. "Yeah, a little under three hours from now."

By the time five o'clock comes along, we're stopped in Eugene, Oregon. Felicity's finished fabricating the credentials for the Palmer symposium, and has sent emails to Aunt May and Mrs. Stacy, under Oliver's name, explaining that we'll be there at his request. With her tablets free, we're able to watch as the unnamed Green Army (that's what I'm calling them, anyway) sends their next video out live on the internet.

" _Greetings, Starling City,_ " the shadowed speaker says. Such a polite terrorist. " _We've just seeded your clouds once again - and this time, Dante's finally begun to solidify. Perhaps it won't be long before the ice weighs enough to crush the dam._ " The terrorist pauses to take a sip of bottled water, then coughs for a few seconds. " _At least once that happens,_ " they say, " _this city should have considerably more clean water to go around. Yet somehow, I suspect that's what the leadership of Starling does_ not _want. If that's the case...you have one choice._ "

Oliver's grip tightens on the tablet even before the terrorist continues. " _The man who recently took credit for being the Arrow, a Glades resident named Roy Harper who died in prison...by now, I'm sure you all realize he's not the Arrow. I happen to know he was Arsenal all along._ "

The terrorist leans into the camera, allowing the lower half of his face - the stubble indicates he's a dude - to come out of shadow for a second. Oliver glares at the screen. "I knew it," he says. "Why am I not surprised?"

Behind him, Felicity rolls her eyes. "Dammit, Malcolm," she groans. "Why do you keep on being so goddamn evil?"

"You know this guy?" I ask.

"Let's just say Malcolm Merlyn is a recurring thorn in our sides," Oliver says. "And it's not the first time he's tried to destroy Starling by artificially-induced environmental disaster, either."

"The earthquake," Barry breathes. "That was him too?"

"At least that one could easily be passed off as natural," Oliver says, "given how many Ring of Fire fault lines run within ten miles of the Glades."

On screen, Malcolm dons an olive-drab balaclava and leans into the camera again. " _I also know who the real Arrow is,_ " he says. " _Which means I'll be able to sniff out any attempts at deception. So, Starling City, no tricks._ " Dramatic pause.

" _Bring me the Arrow,_ " he says, " _and the cloud seeding will stop._ " 


	3. Can't Fake What's Underneath

*****BARRY*****

Rain lashes the windows of the train as it pulls up to Starling City Station. As if there weren't enough proof supporting Ollie's revelations during the ride from CC. Seattle was nice and sunny and springlike, but no sooner did we get within twenty miles of Starling than the sky was almost instantly darkened by swirling clouds. More than once, we even caught glimpses of far-off lightning, followed seconds later by booms of thunder echoing across the city.

"Welcome to _Day After Tomorrow_ city," I laugh as the train comes to a squealing stop inside the station.

Peter and Gwen roll their eyes - the latter more so. "As New Yorkers, we're required to hate that movie for drowning our home," she says.

"Sorry to drag you into the action right away," Ollie says, zipping up his hoodie, "but we've gotta get to Lake Dante ASAP. Which means we're gonna need to get some better winter gear for everyone."

Peter yawns, as do Grayson and Gwen. I don't blame them - it's eight-thirty, which translates to eleven-thirty in their part of the country. Even though they've been here for over two days now, I'm sure they're still suffering from a little bit of jet lag. Poor guys.

"Luckily," Felicity says, grabbing her tablets and burying them in a nest of clothes in her suitcase, "there's an REI just a block north of the station. Boots, beanies, and scarves all around!"

"Good thing I just cashed in my last two paychecks the other day," I laugh.

"No, don't worry about it," Ollie says. "I'm buying it all. No need to break you guys' banks. Especially the kids'."

We climb down to the platform, lugging our bags the whole way. It's so awkward taking them down the steps - as a result, we find ourselves less walking and more waddling, penguin-style. Except penguins are far better-dressed than us. Those adorable Antarctic birds in their natural tuxedos...

"Hi!" A girl dressed in dark red waves at us as she crosses the platform to greet us. "I thought Felicity was kidding when she said you guys were bringing home the party!"

"I don't 'kid,'" Felicity says, snickering. "I 'adult' now, Thea."

Thea...so this is Ollie's sister? I've never met her, but I've heard a lot about her. Including a little tidbit Ollie revealed after we got the video - the fact that old Malcolm Merlyn is her biological father. I felt so bad for her - still do - but Ollie assured me that she's learned to accept it. Maybe a little too well, though. There _was_ the one time they took themselves on a super-secret father-daughter trip to Corto Maltese, in hopes of never being seen again. Malcolm's hopes, at least. As for Thea, I'm pretty sure she got brainwashed, even temporarily.

This is the first time I'm seeing Thea for real, and not just in a picture on Ollie's phone. He once, very jokingly, suggested that we'd be a great match for each other. My equally snarky response: "The geekboy and the recovering party girl? Match made in heaven."

"I could find out if you've got similar music tastes," Ollie had said. "That always helps with matchmaking. Like with me and Felicity."

"Sure. Ask her if she likes The Dear Hunter," I laughed. "That's 'D-E-A-R,' BTW."

"If they're any of the people behind the god-awful EDM she's always playing in Verdant," Ollie said, "maybe."

"In that case," I said, "prepare to be disappointed."

Meanwhile in the real world... "Did you tell Diggle too?" Ollie asks Felicity.

"Just Thea," she says. "I figured she'd be the best at keeping the secret. Women's intuition, you know."

"As a bartender," Thea says, "I'm now an unofficial therapist. I know a thing or two about confidentiality now."

"But I'm guessing by 'bartender,' you don't mean a place like Cheers, right?" Olivia asks.

"Nope," Thea laughs. "But the bartender at Cheers was a recovering alcoholic, right? Yeah, so Verdant's also kind of a bad place for me. Full of triggers, you know."

"But you're a strong girl," Ollie says, hugging his sister.

He then has her go around and meet everyone else, me included. Funnily enough, her phone rings as soon as she tries to hug me - and I recognize the ringtone right away. "Is that 'But There's Wolves?'" I ask.

"Mm-hmm," Thea says. "Ollie's the one who introduced me to this band." She checks the phone, and decides not to take the call just yet. "It's Diggle," she says in response to Ollie's tilted head and unasked question. "I'll call him back in a sec." Then she moves on to Gwen, then Peter. "Huh, that's kinda funny - Spidey and Speedy are - but wait - _I'm_ Speedy!"

"Yeah, there's only one Speedy," Ollie chuckles. "And don't you forget it."

"Well, what about the author of _Apocalypse Calling?_ " Grayson asks. "Isn't Speedy her nickname too?"

"Mm-hmm," Olivia says. "Now there are three Speedies to keep track of! Curse you, brain!" she cries, pulling her hair.

"Hey, watch it!" laughs Thea, tugging on Olivia's hands. "You've got a great sense of style - don't ruin it!"

"You really think so?" Olivia asks. Like she's not the prettiest girl here. Well, there's also Felicity. And Gwen. And Thea. Most of whom, I've seen in action. But I'll take Ollie's word for it that Thea can hold her own with the others if they went and formed themselves their own version of the _BAMF Girls' Club._ (My favorite of the original group is Lisbeth, just for how psychotic she is. And Katniss would probably be my best friend.)

"Whenever this is done," Felicity says, draping her arms over Gwen's and Olivia's shoulders, "we promise, we'll take you two on a girls' night. And as for the boys - we'll trust you to not get wasted without us, all right?"

"I can't even get drunk," I laugh. "Side effect of my powers."

Peter holds up his hands. "And I'm on the kind of meds you're not supposed to mix with alcohol. Side effect of _my_ powers."

"And your age," Grayson laughs.

"That too."

Ollie zips his hoodie up all the way and leads the way out of the station. The streets outside are gushing with at least a half-inch of water in the gutters, flowing west towards the ocean. Those of us who aren't locals, our current footwear may not survive the trip to REI. Just one block of walking soaks through my Converse, and my socks, and even the skin on my feet, I think.

The good news is, they're still open, so we get to head on upstairs and immediately replace all our ruined shoes with stylish and functional snow boots. Ollie takes the boxes down to the register as soon as we find them in our sizes (I have to search for a while because of how big my feet are), then brings them back up so we can put them on right away.

Beanies are next on the menu. Peter and Gwen each have one already ("They're a pretty standard part of our wardrobes," he says), but the rest of us have fun playing with a spinning rack of black, white, and gray ones. Some of them even have an Arrow logo on them, which makes me think, are they some kind of official superhero merch? Yeah, probably not. If Arrow gear did exist, they'd probably sell it in the more touristy parts of town, not in a big retail store like this. At least, that's what I'd think, based on the places where Cisco's found Flash gear back home.

Ollie buys the beanies, and also scarves and gloves, then we pile into a pair of matte-black SUVs - an Escalade and a Durango - waiting for us in the train's parking garage. "Any particular reason why we didn't just ride in these to the store?" I ask. I don't need to get an answer, though - like in any big city, Starling parking's a chore at the best of times, especially in vehicles as big, boxy, and unwieldy as these.

Joining me in the Escalade (which Ollie's driving) are Thea, Grayson, and Olivia. Felicity's driving Peter and Gwen in the Durango, along with Diggle and Laurel. The former has a new helmet he had me take a look at before we left. "Points for menacing appearance," I said, "but I'll have to subtract a few of those for the major design flaw." I tapped the side of the helmet, right next to Diggle's eye, but he couldn't see it because the curved metal cut out his peripheral vision.

"I told you," Laurel laughed. "Why couldn't you go with a mask like the rest of us?"

"It's _unique_ ," Diggle insisted. "Do I get points for that, at least?"

"You'll have to take that up with Peter," I said, clicking my tongue and heading over to the Escalade. "He's got more superhero street cred than I do!"

The traffic going out of the city isn't too bad, but coming in, that's another story. According to my phone, people in and around Starling are evacuating right and left as the storm refuses to let up. The area around Lake Dante is practically deserted at this point, because there just aren't enough snow-day supplies to go around, I guess. I bet it's like that one memetic scene in _Frozen_ \- "Yoohoo! Big summer blowout!" Maybe with one measly pair of snowshoes on the "winter stuff" shelf, too.

"I thought Starling people would be a little less run-for-the-hills than this," Grayson says when I read the local-news article about the fleeing residents to him and Olivia.

"After so many terrorist attacks on the city?" Thea asks. "There's only so much our people can take. And it's not like we've got such a brotherhood-of-man thing going on like in, say, New York or Gotham."

"Must be an East Coast thing," Grayson says.

The road rises high enough to afford us a view of the city and the Juan de Fuca Strait out the back windows of the van. Ollie cranes his neck and peers ahead, to where a series of flashing lights block the road. "Chain checkpoint," he says. "Finally. They didn't have 'em this morning, and there was a hell of a pile-up coming down from the mountains." He angles the rearview mirror so he can see me in the second-row passenger-side seat, next to Thea. "Barry, you know how to put these on?"

"Living in Central City, I kinda have to," I say. "Should I do it now?"

"Please. They're in the back of both our rides."

"On it."

Grayson and Olivia root around in the back until they find the snow chains, then I run out the door and attach them to the Escalade's tires in five seconds. I then run down to the Durango, which is idling ten feet behind us - there's a bit of a line approaching the checkpoint - and tell Felicity to get me their chains too. Gwen and Diggle pass them up to her, and I zip around the SUV, attaching the chains like the world's fastest one-man pit crew.

Not long afterwards, our tires are inspected and approved, and we're allowed to move on up to Lake Dante. We have to drive slowly because of the built-up snow on the road, so it's well after nine by the time we actually reach the town itself, which is nestled snugly at the bottom of the mountains, next to a dam with the lake on its other side. A little like Central City and Shasta Lake in reverse, the dam being above the town instead of below it.

In the town square, a crowd has gathered to watch a movie being projected on a screen. The snow hasn't done anything to stop this kind of festivity. No surprise there - I hear some of Central City's northernmost, most mountainous suburbs do the same thing twice a month in the winter months, when the snow is at its most driving and biting. I recognize this particular movie as _Dante's Peak_ \- specifically, the collapsing-freeway scene, which has found itself used as stock footage on a bunch of other movies and TV shows because most people wouldn't know where it's from.

As we pass the square, Thea's phone rings. The ringtone, this time, is not a Dear Hunter song, but instead a U2 deep cut - "Daddy's Gonna Pay For Your Crashed Car." She growls at the phone before answering it. "What the hell do you want now?" Pause. "You think Ollie might wanna hear this, or should I keep on blocking the mike to talk to him?" Another pause, then she puts the phone on speaker. "Okay. Be quick; time is money."

" _I see you guys are in town already,_ " says Malcolm.

Thea chokes on her own spit, she's so surprised. "Did you turn on my phone GPS? Dammit, I shut it off for a reason!"

" _As your father, I have the right to check in on you when-_ "

"Enough bullshit," Ollie interrupts, driving us around a corner and out of sight of the square. "What do you want, Malcolm? Please don't say, 'world domination.' That's already a given."

" _Nothing so dramatic, 'Al Sah-Him,_ '" Malcolm says. " _All I ask is that you meet me at the site of my predecessor's death. You're heading that way anyway, aren't you?_ "

"Spy," Thea hisses.

" _I know,_ " Malcolm says.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Grayson laughs. "'You resemble that epithet' and all that."

" _Who's this?_ "

"They used to call me the Boy Wonder," Grayson says, flashing a peace sign at the phone. I wouldn't be surprised if Malcolm could see that too. "One of those words no longer applies."

" _I know who you are now, yeah,_ " Malcolm says. " _You used to be Batman's little beauty-pageant boy, huh? Until you got too old and had to be replaced with another underage underwear model?_ "

"Wow," Grayson says in a "stay classy, San Diego" voice. "I'm, uh, not supposed to respond to trolls, but eat my c-"

"Whatever you're planning," I say, butting in before Grayson can finish his well-placed curse, "we've got a big enough team to stop it."

On the other end, Malcolm yawns. " _Sorry, but you know what late nights can do to a guy at my age. Ollie's Central City friend, I presume? Allen Barry, right?_ "

"Close enough," I say. "Troll."

" _Call me what you want,_ " Malcolm says, " _but the plans haven't changed._ "

"What plans?" Ollie asks.

" _Stop on top of the dam and I'll tell you,_ " Malcolm says. " _Park a hundred feet behind my car - any more and you'll set off the proximity trigger attached to the bombs I hid under the asphalt. Then, Oliver, you come out and join me. Alone._ "

"Aside from the fact that you're so obviously bluffing about the bombs-" Ollie says.

" _Indulge me,_ " says Malcolm. " _You're so convinced I'm a villain. A Rogue, if we're gonna put it in terms our fast friend Allen can understand. And I'm in no mood to waste hours fruitlessly attempting to convince you otherwise._ "

"Don't you know that poor communication kills?" asks Olivia.

"Or that it's a surefire way to torpedo a parent-child relationship?" Thea says. "And speaking of which, shouldn't I be the one keeping things from you, not the other way around?"

" _We've both got a lot of catching up to do,_ " says Malcolm. He then hangs up, probably because we've just driven past a sign reading "Salish Dam." The road gets steep, then flattens out as we reach the top of the dam itself. It's empty except for a single large luxury sedan parked almost exactly in the middle. No prizes for guessing whose ride this is.

Following Malcolm's instructions, Ollie parks the Escalade a hundred feet behind the sedan, then cracks the windows slightly before shutting the engine off. He passes me the key fob and says, "If I'm not out in ten minutes, drive back to the city. Thea will show you where to go. Oh, and Thea, could you also call Felicity and let her know what's happening?"

She shrugs, then goes into her phone's contacts menu. "I have a very bad feeling about this," she says.

"You're not the only one," Olivia says.

Ollie takes his sister's hand before she can hit the button to call Felicity. "It'll be all right, Speedy," he says. "I promise. If Malcolm wanted to kill me or anything, he'd have done it eons ago."

I crack a smile at his comment, as do everyone else. I'm the last one to speak to him before he opens the door and makes his way out into the cold. "Be safe," I say.

"You know me," Ollie says, tugging up his hood - not his Arrow hood, but a plain old hoodie hood, one that doesn't cover his face quite so well. Rubbing his gloved hands together, he closes the door and walks through the drifting snow flurries before reaching Malcolm's Maybach.

Awkwardly, I climb into the driver's seat, coming dangerously close to kicking Thea in the face. Luckily, between Ollie and Malcolm, she's trained well, and her reflexes are every bit as good as, say, Ollie's or Grayson's, so she has no problem avoiding my feet when they get into her head space.

When I'm in the driver's seat, I place the key fob in the cupholder. Then I leave one hand on the steering wheel, absently drumming the beat to "But There's Wolves?" on it with my thumb and forefinger (and, incidentally, I even hear what sounds like wolves howling somewhere in the distance, across the lake to our right.) The other hand, it's glued to the door handle. Thea's _Star Wars_ line accurately sums up how I feel as well, and I need to be ready to launch a speedster-style rescue any second.

I can't see what's going on as Ollie disappears into the blacker-than-black depths of the Maybach. None of us can. This feeling of not knowing, that's the worst of all. 


	4. Big Money Got No Soul

*****PETER*****

"Am I the only one not liking this?" I ask, watching Oliver as he leaves the other SUV and steps into the Maybach nearby.

"Damn right you're not," Gwen says. "Whoever owns this car is trouble. Count on it."

"For people who've not been on our turf for more than a couple of hours," Laurel comments, "you two have a remarkable grasp of the atmosphere."

"Don't be snarky," Diggle says. "Save it for Malcolm."

"Yeah," Felicity mutters, fine-tuning a set of binoculars. "I've got a few choice words for him myself."

The darkness seeps in all around us, along with the cold. Even with Felicity running the heater full blast, I'm shivering, as is Gwen. I take her hand, feeling her pulse hammering, rabbit-like, under her skin.

"I haven't been this wired since my dad died," she whispers. "I didn't sleep for almost a week after that."

"I didn't know," I say. Of course I wouldn't - that week was part of the brief time we weren't seeing each other. I think it lasted about three months, maybe four. It was only earlier this month, a couple of weeks before Easter, that we finally began to reconnect. It's been good for us, it really has. And you know what they say - nothing like a whirlwind adventure to really bring young lovers together. They really do say that, right? Right? I'm hearing crickets.

Actually, no, it's not crickets I'm hearing. It's a wolf or two howling nearby. Maybe not even nearby - maybe the sound's just carrying that much across the lake to our right.

"We barely know this Oliver guy," Gwen says, "and we're already scared for him. Either our hearts are a size too big, or-"

"Or it's just our guts telling us to beware what happens next," I say.

"Good little guts," Gwen says, patting her stomach and smiling at it. "I don't have any treats on hand right now, but I'll give you one soon, don't worry."

"Only you," I say, "could get away with talking to your stomach like it's a dog."

"Quiet," Felicity whispers. "Something's happening. Oh no...that must be what Malcolm's using to seed the clouds."

I slowly peek around the driver's seat - I can't climb up there myself and get a better view, not without kicking Felicity or Gwen in the face - and see a man in his forties emerge from the backseat of the Maybach just long enough to raise a small remote into the air and click it.

"No way that little thing's responsible for the snow all by itself," Diggle says.

"Right," I say. "It must be a trigger."

"For what?" asks Gwen.

Felicity scans the area, slowly swiveling on the spot and looking like some kind of human periscope. "I can't see squat," she says. "Dammit, Ollie, where'd you leave the night-vision goggles this time?"

"Probably in the other ride," Laurel says.

My phone vibrates - thank God I remembered to put it on silent. I check the screen before answering. "What's up, Grayson?" I ask, thumbing the screen to access the in-call controls. "You're on speaker," I say a second before putting him on.

"Are you guys seeing what's coming out of the lake?" he asks.

"Uh...no. Should we?" I look around, trying to get a glimpse of whatever he's talking about.

"There's this...I dunno how to describe it," Grayson says, sounding a bit freaked out. "It looks like a UFO, actually."

"I see it!" Gwen says, pointing out her window - because she's on the passenger side, closer to the lake, she's better able to see it.

Behind us, Laurel tries to move over to Diggle's window, only to trap his weird helmet between them. Cursing under her breath, she picks it up and moves it out of the way. Meanwhile, I slide up behind Gwen, literally looking over her shoulder.

Then I see it. Grayson's not kidding - the device rising from the water really does look like a UFO. It's got the spinning disk-shaped body, flashing lights over its surface, the whole shebang. But it's not floating like a real UFO (assuming those are for real, which I'd like to think they could be because, well, why not?) Instead, it's attached to a support pole that's rising out of the water as well, beneath the main body of the device. (Note to self: learn technical terminology for this thing later. Preferably from the horse's mouth - that is, Malcolm's - if I ever face him in battle alongside Gwen, Olivia, Barry, Oliver, and/or Grayson.)

The UFO stops spinning, staying eerily still as it hovers above the water. Then it starts spinning again. This time, though, it releases what looks like more snow into the air, in a fine white powder. It looks artificial, like soap flakes or something. I'm told I used to play with those a lot, especially when it was extra-cold and I was extra-young and my parents were extra-protective of little baby Peter. What can I say? All my life, I've loved the snow so much, I needed some kind of substitute whenever I couldn't experience the real thing. It's another part of why I really missed Gwen this past winter - I'd thought I would finally be able to pass a snowy night cuddling in the arms of someone I loved, like I'd long dreamed of doing. After the night of Captain Stacy's death, though, I lost that opportunity.

"Okay, it looks less like it's seeding the clouds and more like it's seeding the water," Gwen says.

"Which is worse, though?" Felicity asks.

"I just hope he's not filling the water with some kind of ice-nine or whatever," Olivia says.

Gwen perks up upon hearing this. "You mean like in _Cat's Cradle?_ "

I remember that book from Miss Ritter's AP English class too - maybe the darkest comedy any of us have ever read. Kurt Vonnegut was a seriously f-ed up guy. (Not full-on "fucked up," though - that's Allen Ginsberg you're thinking of.)

"Maybe they've improved the formula since that book was written?" I laugh.

"Could be," says Grayson. "I just - oh shit!"

"What's happening?" I turn my head, trying to figure out what he's talking about - and then I see it. Or, more accurately, I hear it - the Maybach's engine firing up, its taillights flashing bright red. "Oh, hell no! Grayson, distract them!" I say, tearing out the door before Gwen can stop me.

While Grayson ambles out into the cold as well and puts on a quickly-improvised performance - it sounds like he's pretending to be a stranded motorist with a flat tire and no jack - I use my weblines to hold back the Maybach just as it starts to move. Snagging the rear tire, I tug on the webline, preventing the car from moving more than a couple of feet. The tires screech, burning rubber as whoever's driving the car struggles in vain to get away.

"Whoa, what the hell?" Oliver jumps out of the backseat, looking between me and Grayson in surprise.

Malcolm steps out from the other side of the car, forcing Grayson to step aside and let him pass. "Friends of yours, Oliver?" he asks, his voice polite and charming and very Ray Reddington-like. "It's okay, boys," he adds, holding up his hands. "I understand you might have heard some things about me, and those might have given you some itchy trigger fingers. Especially you. Spider-Man, I presume?" He turns to me, smiling paternally, the creep.

Thank God I'm positioned in the shadows, because I didn't even think to put my mask on before engaging this guy. Seriously, what is wrong with me? I'm normally not this jumpy, but since I'm going into this situation blinder than blind...

"And as for you," Malcolm says, turning to Grayson, "I have no idea who you are, but you're an _excellent_ actor. You ever considered going into theater? Gallo Street in Starling is West Coast Broadway."

"I'm Batman," Grayson says in a rough voice. I barely stop myself from laughing - maybe because Batman raised him, he does a damn good impression of the guy. I'm almost convinced that the real thing is here with us right now.

"Guys," Oliver says, one hand on the Maybach's roof, "just stay back, okay? I promise, if Malcolm really meant me any harm, he'd have shot me in the head, execution-style, and put me on ice by now."

Malcolm grimaces. "Thank you for that lovely image," he says. "And for continuing to corrupt these guys' view of me. Believe it or not, I'm freezing this town to stop something even worse from happening."

"If that's the case," Grayson says, "I'd recommend a change of strategy. It sounds like you're just postponing the inevitable."

"Whenever there's something worse," I say, "I'd take it on directly, not go about stopping them in this kind of roundabout way. But that's just me."

"Stay back," Oliver repeats. "I'll tell you what's going on as soon as we're done here, all right?"

Wordlessly, Grayson and I both retreat into our SUVs. I slouch in my seat, my face smarting not only from being out in the cold, but also from embarrassment. "So stupid," I mutter, my hand on my forehead.

"Don't be hard on yourself, Peter," Diggle says. "We had limited information. Any of us could have reacted the same way."

Gwen pulls my hand off my face. "You're gonna have a mark there for days now," she laughs. I don't want to respond in kind, but I can't help it - her mood is infectious.

I look at the Maybach just as it drives off, leaving the rest of us sitting on top of the dam with nowhere else to go. In order to pass the time, I take back my phone and check my messages, as does Gwen. Aunt May's texted me a few times to ask what's happening, and Mrs. Stacy's been doing the same for Gwen.

"So what's the plan for this symposium of yours?" Gwen asks Felicity.

"You're gonna be here to watch Ray Palmer unveil some next-generation military tech," she says. "That's the plan for tomorrow. We're looking to have you kids back home by Tuesday."

"At least now I know what to tell my aunt," I say, typing that info out on my phone.

"Your aunt?" Felicity repeats. "Oh, I'm sorry. I just...I assumed she was your mom or something."

"She's been my mom for pretty much all my life," I say, "but she's not my biological mom, is all." I send the text.

"What is it with superheroes and not knowing their real parents?" Laurel muses. "Ollie being the exception, but since both his parents are now dead..."

"Oh really?" I ask. "What, was he still a kid when it happened?"

"No, but Thea was around your age when their dad died," says Diggle. "Maybe even younger...yeah, she was only fourteen, I think."

Orphans, orphans everywhere...it's a wonder none of us are more maladjusted than we already are.

Grayson calls me again, and when I answer it, I say, "Let's not be so hasty this time, okay? Scene 16-Apple, Take Two. And...action!"

"They're coming back," Grayson says, "so that should mean Oliver's gonna be driving us back to Starling City soon. If he's got anything to say, I'll keep the line open so you guys can hear it too, okay?"

"Got it," I say, leaving the phone on the seat between me and Gwen and waiting with bated breath.

Within seconds of the Maybach's return, Ollie climbs out of the backseat and makes his way back to the Escalade. Malcolm follows him out for a second, making to shake his hand, but Oliver pointedly ignores him. He just walks into the Escalade, turns the engine on, and drives off, with Felicity following suit not long afterwards.

"So," Thea says, sounding like she's chewing her words - or, more accurately, her tongue, probably so she doesn't let it prick anyone because it's so sharp - "anything interesting happen?"

"Other than us nearly screwing up your chances of survival?" Grayson asks, equally word-chewy. Coming from him, it's even weirder, because of his slight Gotham accent. It's almost indistinguishable from a New York accent to outsiders, but New Yorkers like me can tell the difference pretty easily. Gothamites sound a little closer to the sort of half-Southern "Tidewater" dialect you hear all the time from corrupt DC politicians both fictional and real.

"Malcolm really knows how to make taking on a bigger bad look bad itself," Oliver says. "Seems that's what he's doing up here - he wants to stir up such a powerful storm here in Starling that it stops a delivery that's meant to arrive in town tomorrow."

"Whose delivery?" Barry asks. "And how bad can it be? What, are they gonna try and bring some kind of anthrax envelopes or something?"

"That, Malcolm was a little cagey about." Oliver says with a sigh. "As expected. He left me a name, though. Felicity, are you on?"

"I'm driving," she says as we turn back onto the main road, leaving the dam behind. "So I'm gonna need one of you guys to run the search instead."

As I take the proffered tablet, Oliver asks, "You ready?"

I look up front. "Do I just type it in? Like I'm on Google or something?"

"Yeah, and if you need any help, I'll take over," Diggle says.

"I should be able to handle it, thanks," I say. I mean, computers and hacking aren't exactly my area of expertise - I'm more of a hardware than a software guy - but I know a couple of things about how to code.

"Just remember to type in two backslashes, a colon, a tilde, and the letters 'FS' before running the search," says Felicity. "It's a kill switch of sorts. Fail, and you'll crash the tablet. So don't fail, please."

"Not gonna fail," I say, slowly typing in the odd set of keystrokes. "Go, Oliver."

"His name's Damian Darhk," Oliver says. "Last name spelled 'D-A-R-H-K.'"

Gwen raises her eyebrows as she watches the name appear on screen. "Who the heck comes up with that kind of shit spelling?"

"Drunk parents?" Grayson jokes.

I hit "Enter" and wait for a response from whatever Dark Web Felicity's had this tablet search through. A green ring of light spirals around the center of the screen, but nothing else happens. "Is it supposed to go this long - oh."

"That doesn't sound like a good 'oh,'" Barry says. "What's wrong?"

"No results," I say. "Are you sure that's the right spelling, Oliver? Let me try-"

"He said we'd try a bunch of spellings," Oliver says. "The one he gave me, he insists it's correct."

"Sure," Thea drawls. "And I'm a roadrunner."

"No, but I'm sure that's your spirit animal," laughs Laurel.

We fall silent as we drive past the Lake Dante town square, where the movie now shows Linda Hamilton's kids foolishly driving her car up the mountain as it's erupting, in hopes of rescuing their grandmother. Hopefully, that's not a sign or portent of any kind of disaster about to befall us.

"I'll keep searching tonight," Felicity says. "Gwen, Olivia, you can stay at my place if you like, and the boys can spend the night with Ollie."

"You two don't have your own place for yet?" Barry asks.

"Not in Starling," Oliver says. "Not yet."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Gwen says.

I nod along with her, placing the tablet on the passenger seat next to Felicity. "As long as I can dry this hoodie out, I don't mind where I crash for tonight." 

After passing the chain checkpoint again, we stop to switch cars. Olivia comes into the Durango, and I move into the Escalade, the both of us kissing our significant others goodbye first. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," I say to Gwen before heading off. Once I'm in the Escalade with the other boys, I say, "So, what's going on for this guys' night?"

"Netflix and chill?" Grayson laughs. "I mean that literally, of course."

"I don't believe in Netflix," Oliver says. "I've got a pretty good DVD and Blu-Ray collection, though. I'm old-school like that."

" _Inception?_ " suggests Barry. "That's a real brain-tickler."

"I'm good with that," I say. Grayson nods his approval.

"And here I thought we'd be able to fall asleep to an episode or two of _Supernatural,_ " Oliver laughs, driving us past the "Welcome to Starling City" sign.

"Also a good option," I say, "but what about the-"

"Yes," Barry and Grayson say in unison.

Shrugging, I say, "Okay then. Saving people and hunting things it is."

"You know, if you'd prefer-" Oliver begins.

"It's all good," Barry says. "We all love _Supernatural_ around here. Who'd have thought, huh?"

"Cool. Cool." Oliver drums his thumbs on the steering wheel - I swear, it's to the tune of "Carry On Wayward Son." 


	5. Try And Try To Crack The Shell

*****BARRY*****

Super speed gives me a super metabolism. Super metabolism makes me need to raid Ollie's fridge after everyone else is in bed. God, I thought those days were long behind me, back when I was a lanky, awkward young dude who routinely ate Joe out of house and home and never, ever gained weight. Not that I hadn't tried - I used to hate being so skinny. Teen me looked like a starving, overgrown bird. Or like that guy who plays Tris Prior's brother. Now that I've had a chance to fill out some, though...

Inside the fridge is a wide variety of food and drink to be had. I'm delighted to discover among them a case of Ianto's Soda, a Starling-based brand that used to be sold in Central City but is now very hard to find. Shame - I used to drink their stuff all the time when I was a kid, because they came in fun flavors you literally couldn't find anywhere else.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?"

Thank God I didn't pick up the soda bottle - I would have dropped it for sure, Peter's surprised me that much. I whirl around and see him standing on the other side of the kitchen island, rubbing his bare forearms and shivering.

"I think your hoodie should be dry by now," I say, pointing to the improvised clothesline Ollie created for us after he brought us boys to his place. During and after our encounter with Malcolm on Salish Dam, some of us had our outer layers get snowed and rained on like nobody's business, so Ollie got a fire going in the fireplace and used the heat to dry our clothes out.

Peter crosses to the clothesline and selects his charcoal-gray hoodie, zipping it up tightly to ward off the chill seeping into the apartment from the rainy night outside.

"Yeah, sleep is pretty hard to come by for me too," he says. "Blame it on my age, or lack thereof. Even when I was normal and powerless, my circadian rhythm had a seriously irregular time signature. Like a Rush song."

"You didn't always have powers?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Perish the thought."

The fridge is still open, releasing cold air behind me, so I quickly grab two bottles of Ianto's and pass one across the island to Peter. "You want it?" I ask.

He turns on a single light above the island and then looks askance at the bottles and the fluorescent green liquid within. "I'm not a Mountain Dew kind of guy, sorry."

"This isn't Mountain Dew," I laugh. "It's green apple soda. My old favorite."

Intrigued, Peter approaches the soda tentatively, like it's a pitbull or something. He opens the bottle, takes a sip, then smiles. "Mmm. Delicious."

"They make it organic and all-natural," I say. "100% fruit juice, real sugar, and clean Washington spring water."

"Why does this not exist in New York?"

"Guess it's just a West Coast thing." I take a seat across the island from Peter. "So, you were saying?"

"What about?"

"About not always having your powers?"

Peter's eyebrows draw together for a moment. "Not much to tell, really," he says. "Basically, what happened is, I went to Oscorp Tower and got myself bitten by a spider one day."

"Not just any spider, was it?"

He shakes his head, "They were using them for all sorts of experiments. Genetic engineering, mostly. And a bunch of cool real-world applications that, for whatever reason, never really got beyond the concept stage." He bends back two fingers on one hand, touching the webshooter that's always clipped to his hoodie cuff. "Such as."

"Can I see that?" I ask, out of curiosity.

"You _can,_ but _may_ you?" Peter laughs before passing the webshooter to me. "Be careful with it - the trigger's pretty sensitive."

While I turn the little device over in my hand a few times, looking closely at the loose strands of sticky webline trailing from its business end, Peter continues talking. "Do you...do you know how I first became famous as Spider-Man?"

"I think so," I say. "Something about you using your webs to hog-tie a bunch of petty criminals and pretty much hand-deliver them to the NYPD?"

"Mm-hmm. But most people don't know how it all started."

I look up to see Peter looking down and off to the side. Smelling tragedy ahead, I nevertheless advise him to continue. And continue he does.

"I started out doing the vigilante thing, kinda like Oliver, but all my targets were small fry, like you said. The reason for that was 'cause...see, I was looking for one guy in particular."

"What kind of beef did you have with him?"

Peter doesn't respond for the longest time - that's how I know I've touched a nerve. After taking another drink of soda, I'm about to apologize, but before I can, he says, "He killed my uncle."

"Oh my God," I whisper, putting down the bottle. "Oh...I'm so sorry."

"It's all right," Peter says in a tone of voice that completely contradicts his words. "I-I spent such a long time trying to find this guy and get my revenge, but that was before...before I started dating Gwen. She helped me find myself, you know? And...I mean, I never did find Uncle Ben's killer. Nor do I expect to, really. But..." His voice trails off, and when it comes back, it's thick with tears. "Wh-When I was still looking for...for that guy, I just wanted to hurt him so bad. Hurt him like he'd hurt me. I-I-I already lost my parents; I couldn't handle that pain again..." He wipes the tears off his cheeks, then folds his hands in front of his face, his thumbs poised to dry his eyes again. "And the worst part was, I-"

"You lost your parents?"

He looks up again, startled by my interruption, his eyes wide and sparkling with more tears. "They died in a plane crash when I...when I was four. My aunt and uncle raised me after that...and my uncle died just last year. And I let it happen. His killer...I-I watched him rob a convenience store, and I didn't do anything to stop him. So he ran out onto the street, ran into Uncle Ben, and they got into a fight..." He draws a shuddering breath, and when he's able to talk again, his voice is more broken than ever. "I watched him die."

Only a second passes before I get up from the table, come around to Peter's side, and lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You're...you're not the only one this has happened to," I say. "When I was eleven, the Reverse Flash killed my mom right in front of me." I don't bother telling him about how I recently went back in time to say goodbye to her before she died, and also to bring my younger self to safety. I don't want him to think I was the lucky one. Neither of us was. "They thought my dad killed her. He didn't, but he's still been in prison for almost fifteen years."

Peter shrugs off my hand and slides off his chair, only to turn around and hug me. "Yeah, that's all right," I say, patting him on the back as I return his hug. "Just let it out. You're not alone, Peter. From what I've heard, you never were."

He nods, still crying into my shoulder for a few seconds. Then he lets go of me and takes his seat again, spending a while downing his soda. "That's actually my worst fear," he says.

"What is?"

"Being alone. Having no one to love, to care about, to trust with your life."

I can't help but laugh lightly as a tasteless joke, one that might very well offend my one-man audience, occurs to me. "Funny, and I thought I had the worst possible worst fear."

"Which is what?"

I crack a smile. "Spiders."

We both end up crying tears of laughter that, no doubt, wake up everyone else in the apartment. In which case, who cares? We're having ourselves a little metahuman therapy session, dammit!

"We should hit the hay," I say when I can breathe again. "It's gonna be a busy day tomorrow. The symposium, you know?"

Peter yawns. "Am I gonna need to prepare anything? I mean, to make it look like I'm supposed to be there?"

"Knowing Ollie," I say with a grin as I pluck the clothesline like a harp string, "you've got nothing to worry about. Besides, this was literally a last-minute invite. It's not like you're delivering the keynote or anything."

Peter punches me in the shoulder. "Yeah. Steve Jobs I'm not. Good night, Barry."

"'Night," I mumble before yawning. I disappear down the hall, while Peter returns to the living-room couch, nestling under a blanket. Ollie initially insisted on sleeping there while the rest of us took the bedrooms, but Peter used logic to convince him otherwise. It would be virtually impossible for me or Ollie to get comfortable on the couch, because we're both so tall, and Grayson, while not as tall as we are, has a heavier frame. As the smallest guy in the house, Peter therefore would have the least trouble sleeping on the couch.

"It's nothing," he added when Ollie opened his mouth one more time to object. "I've been known to sleep on the ceiling. It's actually really good for me - you guys should try it sometime."

"Thanks, but I'll pass," Grayson chuckled.

Speaking of Grayson, he's the reason why I got up earlier. Apparently, he talks in his sleep. Nothing coherent, just a few random words uttered at exactly the right volume to wake me up. Now, however, when I return to the bedroom we're sharing, he's making out with his pillow, and I hear him say something like, "Stop it...Livvy, you're so dirty...haha, omigoddonttouchmethere!" Adding a humorously disturbing layer to the whole situation, he's sleeping in only his underwear. I'm kind of glad we each have our own bed - it'd be a little weird, sharing a bed with someone this unconsciously amorous. Even if it _is_ Nightwing. I'm not afraid to admit I've got a bit of a man-crush on the guy.

"Yo, wake up." It feels like only three seconds pass between the time I crash on my bed and the time Grayson gently pokes me back to the land of the living. "We've only got an hour before we need to head out to Palmer Tech. Oliver's orders."

I roll off the bed, staggering to my feet and feeling the blood rush from my head. Ugh, I really hate mornings sometimes. Midnight snacks never help, but I don't really have the willpower to break that particular bad habit.

"Ironic, isn't it?" Grayson laughs, tugging on a T-shirt - black with a purple Nightwing logo - and then putting his red-chevron hoodie on over that. "The speedster's the slowest one in the house today."

I yawn loudly over the second half or so of Grayson's sentence. "God...tell me they have anything nearly as good as CC Jitters around here."

"Oliver's got an old Italian espresso machine," Grayson says. "I already suggested he make four cups for you. Guess I was right."

"Thanks, man," I say, clapping my hands together.

"Don't mention it." Grayson lays his hand on my shoulder for a second before he heads out. "Careful, Barry, you look like you're gonna lose your balance."

Ten minutes later, I'm in the kitchen for the second time in eight hours. There's been a break in the rain - it's actually sunny, unbelievably. Peter pours coffee into a mug stamped with the logo of Thea's club, Verdant. "That's funny," I say, pointing to the green lettering on the white ceramic. "You guys have your own coffee mugs?"

"It's one of Thea's little jokes," Ollie says. "She uses them to serve any drinks with Kahlúa in them - White Russians, for instance - and I just picked up one to keep at home." He takes a spatula to the contents of a sizzling frying pan.

"Omelets, huh?" Grayson asks as he enters the kitchen as well. Peter hands him the Verdant mug, then sticks a second mug - one advertising another superhero who's not with us today - under the outlet of Ollie's vintage Gaggia.

"You have a Superman mug?" I laugh.

"It's Supergirl, actually," Ollie corrects me. "I ordered that one from National City. Call me a fan."

"That's cool," I say, taking the mug from Peter after he puts sugar in it and downing the quadruple espresso - like water, just as Joe told me not to do.

Peter adds some sugar to his own coffee - his mug has rainbow stripes on each side, with the shape of Mickey Mouse's head embedded in those stripes. "Who knew this guy could cook?" he says, pointing at Ollie with the handle of his teaspoon.

"Not me," Grayson laughs.

Ollie serves up four plates of delicious-smelling breakfast. "I totally forgot I still had that mug," he says, nodding to the rainbow Mickey. "I got that one at Disneyland when I was a kid, 'cause I used to be totally into all the colors and shit." He laughs lightly. "And years later, my dad would joke that he thought I was gay just 'cause of that mug."

"It was hidden behind the first row in the cabinet," Peter says. "I brought out all the others, then I found this one, and it looked interesting enough, so I went for it."

Ollie leans against the kitchen counter, drinking from a Queen Consolidated mug. "Maybe I'll start using it again someday. If I ever feel that nostalgic."

I cut my omelet and take a bite. "Mmm. This is great."

"You really think so?"

"Yeah," Grayson chimes in. "Seriously, where'd you learn to cook?"

Ollie cracks a smile. "Self-taught." He then looks out the window for a moment. "Oh, but I can't imagine what it's like at Felicity's - hopefully one of the other girls is better at cooking than she is."

"She's really that bad?" Peter asks.

"I can totally see it now," I say, holding up a forkful of omelet. Putting on a deep voice, I intone, " _Felicity Smoak...you have failed this omelet._ "

Ollie nearly dies laughing. "That's...th-that's exactly what I said when she tried to cook for me!"

"What? No way! In the Arrow voice and everything?"

" _I reserve the Arrow voice for my worst enemies,_ " Ollie says, his voice dropping a couple of octaves. Returning to his normal voice, he adds, "Felicity doesn't get that treatment."

Grayson shakes his head. "As long as Olivia's there, she'll be in charge of all the cooking."

"Good," Ollie says.

"Yeah," Grayson laughs. "She can make bacon like...well, let's just say it's magical."

"Isn't bacon a carcinogen now?" I ask.

Grayson rolls his eyes. "When I say Olivia's bacon is to die for, that's not exactly what I mean."

"Besides," Peter adds, "it's _bacon_. Your opinion is invalid."

Ollie folds his arms and nods. "Yeah. And if Olivia's cooking, then that'll probably give Felicity time to look up the list of events so the others can know what to see. Speaking of which..." He lays down his plate and mug and turns on an iPad. "Wait...what?"

I don't like the sound of that. "What's happening?" I ask, leaning over to glance at the screen. I expect it to show some website for the symposium or something, but instead, the screen displays one of those stupid "This website cannot be found" notices on a white background.

"I thought iPads were immune to these warnings," Peter jokes.

Somewhere beyond the walls of the apartment, a loud boom echoes. I run to the window, as do Peter and Grayson, but we can't see anything. Whatever's exploded - and I'm about 112% sure it was an explosion - it must be in the other direction.

"Oh, shit," Ollie whispers behind us. I turn around to see him swipe the screen. "Yeah, I think it's safe to say the symposium's off."

He turns the screen around to show us the breaking-news alert. The explosion was at the headquarters of Palmer Technologies.

"Should we get over there anyway?" Peter asks.

Ollie lays the tablet on the kitchen island and races out the door.

"We'll take that as a yes," Grayson says.

"Yeah," I say, following Ollie. "Definitely."


	6. It's Bugging Me, Grating Me

  *****PETER*****

Whatever Malcolm's been doing to the weather around here has stopped, and it's a bright, sunny morning in Starling City. Which is so ironic, given the terrible disaster that's just gone down at the Palmer Technologies building. The upper floors have been blown up on one side, leaving that part of the building a charred skeleton. It's not as bad as the Twin Towers on 9/11, or the Battle of New York, or the destruction wreaked on Central City's skyline on Saturday. Still, though, the sight of this wreckage dredges up bad memories right and left in my mind.

Gwen stands by my side as we all gather around the police tape hurriedly being stretched across the street a block from the building. Oliver and Felicity are talking to the cops, probably trying to get any information they can without actually going into what's left of their offices.

Barry looks up at the tower and points at a large piece of metal hanging from the edge of the blast zone. It looks like a letter "A," upside down and at an awkward angle. "That used to be part of the building's sign," he says. "Jesus, what happened up there?"

"And, more importantly," says Gwen, "what are Oliver and Felicity not telling us?"

Olivia raises her eyebrows. "Um...what do you mean?"

Grayson kneads his forehead for a second. "Gwen, you don't think they're hiding something, do you?"

"Trust me," Barry says, "they _are_ hiding something. Lots of somethings. Just like all of us, their personal adventures are too complicated to explain in one sitting. I don't even know everything about Ollie and his team."

I look up at Barry. "Do you have any idea what this is, though?"

He narrows his eyes against the sun as it reflects off a high window on another nearby skyscraper. "I have a hunch. But I could be wrong. Hell, I _hope_ I'm wrong. If I'm not...we might have just lost another one of our friends."

"Who would that be?"

"Palmer himself," says Barry. "Ray Palmer." He looks down at the sidewalk, kicking a pebble across the slowly-drying concrete with his snow boots. "He...he was working on this really cool new project. A shrink suit."

Grayson perks up. "A shrink suit?" he repeats. "I've heard rumors that SHIELD developed one of those back in the Cold War. Bruce still keeps a magazine article about it from when he was a kid." He chuckles to himself. "It was about the only thing he added to the library himself after his parents died."

"Why is that funny?" I ask.

"Because Bruce, well-read as he is..." Grayson scratches behind his ear, blushing as he himself processes just how tactless his remark was. "He, uh...that's why he doesn't read much stuff that's more recent than 1985."

"I've heard that same story, I think," Gwen says. "But...Peter, back me up here - isn't there also a rumor that SHIELD stole the tech from someone else who tried to get it back, but they wouldn't let him?"

"I think so," I say, trying to recall the details - but they're not coming to me. "And now Palmer thought he'd go and try it out himself?"

"It's his dream project, as long as I've known the guy," Barry says. He then bites his lip and adds, "I dunno...should I still be referring to him in the present tense?"

"Until they find the body," I say, "probably." Gwen and Grayson nod with me. "Even in real life, that's the case, right? Find the body, or else they're not dead?"

"I'll go and check it out." Barry vanishes in a burst of yellow lightning, then streaks up the side of the tower. One elephant, two elephant, three elephant, four...finally, at "six elephant," Barry comes back, the wind from his travel buffeting us and throwing loose paper everywhere behind him. "I didn't see anything," he says. "Unless you count all the twisted metal and sparking computer chips."

"But no corpse," Olivia says. "Should we tell Oliver?"

"On it." Barry waves Oliver over and reveals this bombshell to him and Felicity.

She gasps, covering her mouth. "Oh my God," she says, her voice muffled by her hand.

"Barry, are you sure about this?" Oliver asks. "100 percent?"

"Well..." Barry taps his forehead. "What if...what if this explosion was caused by..." He pauses, then adds in hushed tones, "The Atom suit?"

Oliver and Felicity take a moment to consider this. "I suppose it's possible," Felicity says. "I don't even think he got it to work before."

"So, of course the first successful test would have an effect this catastrophic," Gwen says.

"Depends on your definition of 'successful,'" I say.

Oliver looks up at the tower again, shielding his eyes the way Barry did before. "In that case," he says, "you guys should go up there again. All of you," he adds, looking at everyone on this side of the police tape. "That way, you all get to do something useful and not just stand around like a bunch of stupid rubbernecks. No offense," he laughs.

"And what about you?" Grayson asks.

"We," Oliver says, "are gonna talk to our friends on the force. And as if on cue..." His voice trails off, and he turns around to see a police cruiser pull up to the scene behind him. I don't get to see any more, because Barry speeds me, along with Gwen, Grayson, and Olivia, up to the blast zone in two highly disorienting seconds.

I shuffle my feet against the thick pile of black dust on the floor, then cover my mouth so I don't inhale too much of it. "Great," I mutter through my hand. "Now my nice new boots are ruined."

"Aren't you used to that sort of thing?" Gwen asks, also covering her mouth - but this time, with her scarf. "Traipsing through filth in the name of crime-fighting?"

"Maybe a little mud," I say, carefully stepping through around and trying not to leave any tracks - a futile effort. "Maybe a little pond scum in Central Park. Maybe even the sewers. But ashes? Not so much."

"Oh, this is nothing," Grayson says. "This isn't my first fire and/or explosion. At least we don't need those firefighter-style masks," he adds as he tugs his hoodie up over the lower half of his face. "This one isn't as bad as some of the ones I've seen in Gotham."

"Now what exactly are we looking for?" Olivia asks. "A miniature man? How small?"

"I don't know," Barry muses. "I haven't seen the Atom suit in action. But if I had to guess, I'd say he'd be no higher than the tops of my Chucks." He taps the toe of one foot against his ankle to reinforce the mental image he's placed in my head, as well as everyone else's, I'm sure.

"I just hope the suit's not black," Gwen says. "If so, all this ash would camouflage him perfectly."

"I think it was blue and red," Barry says. "Or maybe gray and red. But not black." He looks around the room - if one can call it that, with its half its walls blown out. I notice that he's the only one not protecting his mouth or nose from the ashes and dust floating around. What, does he just speed-breathe so fast that the particulates have no time to wreak havoc on his lungs? No, that doesn't make much sense. But to be fair, neither does his speed force. Not according to the textbook in my Honors Physics class, anyway.

"Blue and red, huh?" I tug at my shirt's neck, revealing a little bit of my Spidey-suit underneath.

"Not like that, no," Barry laughs. "His colors aren't that bright."

"I bet he wanted to at first, but then your lawyers probably sued him into submission," Grayson jokes.

"What lawyers?" Gwen laughs. "He's only a kid, remember? The best he could get is law students, probably."

"Not one of the _How To Get Away With Murder_ cast, I hope," I say, shaking my head and raising my eyebrows at her. "They have enough of their own issues, don't they?"

Gwen aims a fake punch at my arm, as she always does when I poke fun at her stories.

"Hey, guys!" Olivia calls out. She beckons us over from across the room, and asks, "You think this might help us look for our shrunken friend?"

Grayson's the first one to reach her, unbelievably. When he sees what Olivia's looking at inside the remains of a desk, he bursts out laughing. "You're kidding, right?" he asks. "Just 'cause I'm hoping to one day be a detective...?"

"What is it?" I ask. Then I peek around Grayson and see what he's laughing at. It's a magnifying glass.

"Oh, happy coincidence," Barry says. "That's exactly what we need, am I right?" He bends down to take a closer look, but doesn't touch the magnifying glass. "It's too hot," he says. "Unless..." He disappears for a moment, forcing us to redouble our mouth-covering until he returns and disturbs the ash-laden air and floor again. There's already enough of the stuff floating around with the high-altitude wind gusting through the skeleton of the building. Meanwhile, Barry's wearing the gloves from his Flash suit, with which he's able to pick up the half-melted magnifying glass with no ill effects.

"Vulcanized rubber?" Gwen asks.

"Something like that," Barry says. "It began as a next-gen firefighting suit."

"I can see that," I say.

Barry walks around the perimeter of the former office, bent double so he can examine the floor. Magnifying glasses aren't as easy to use as the movies make them seem, actually. You have to hold them really close to your eyes, or else they just blur whatever you're trying to focus in on. And as for the time-honored tradition of using them to light fires? It's no easier than matches or friction or any other classic, accelerant-free fire-starting method.

He doesn't find anything, though. Unexpectedly, I do. Or, more accurately, my foot almost does, and Gwen grabs me just in time to stop me from stepping on a tiny humanoid figure who's just breached the surface of the ashes like a miniature whale.

"Whoa!" I jump back, losing my balance and almost face-planting on the floor. Only a quick web-shot to the ceiling saves me from that fate.

Barry crosses in front of me and looks through the magnifying glass at that spot on the floor. "It's him!" he cries. "We found him!"

He picks up the speck-like figure and allows everyone to look at him through the magnifying glass. The suit is, as described, blue and red, but the colors are more muted than my uniform's bright primary shades.

Ray Palmer - I recognize his face now because, like Oliver, he's been on TV very often - is talking, but we can't hear him. Maybe it's because he's shrunk and can no longer make sounds at frequencies audible to human ears. Or, perhaps more chillingly, he may have lost the ability to speak entirely.

But then Barry's phone rings, and when he answers it, I can sort of match up the speech issuing from its speakers to Ray's lips. "Nice of you to drop in, Barry," he says, adding an ant-sized wave. "But who are all these guys?"

"East Coast superheroes," Grayson says. "But don't worry - we're not like rappers. We don't have a ridiculous rivalry with you guys."

Ray scoffs quietly. "I'm barely a superhero myself. I mean, look at me. I'm one lab accident away from becoming a supervillain!"

I try not to laugh at his well-timed _Big Bang Theory_ quote. Instead, I ask, "Is that one lab accident gonna be you returning to normal size?"

"Haha, I hope not," Ray says. "I...what was that?" He looks around as the floor trembles all around us.

"This place isn't about to collapse, is it?" Gwen asks, her voice a little higher than normal.

"I hope not," Barry says. "Of course, at this point, even a small earthquake...the building's integrity's been pretty compromised."

"Way to reassure us," Olivia says.

 _Boom._ The building shakes again, this time harder and longer. "What the..." I spread my feet slightly, allowing myself to pick up more vibrations through the floor. The boom comes again - but this time, it's not just one boom. It's many. And they're coming in short bursts of two or three seconds each.

"There's someone downstairs with an assault rifle," I say.

No sooner do I make this incredibly obvious proclamation - obvious to me alone, that is - than whoever's firing their gun shoots through the weakened floor in the corridor outside this office.

"Barry, get us out of here!" I say.

"No, wait!" Barry stops and hesitates, Ray still standing in his palm. "Here," he says, handing Ray off to Gwen, who's closest to him. "I'll check it out."

Before he can get any closer to the door, an explosion tears through the corridor floor outside. "What the...they have grenades now?" he asks.

Little pieces of black debris, shaken loose by the explosion, rain down from the ceiling. The floor continues to shake, and begins to undulate as well.

"Barry!" Grayson yells. "We can't stay here!"

"Hang on!" Barry runs around us, then sweeps us all down to the street below. He deposits us in an alley a couple of blocks from the police barricade, then we glance around the corner and see a huge cloud of dust blossoming from the side of the tower. Creaks of metal echo down to us as the remaining letter from the Palmer Technologies sign gives way, then comes crashing down to earth, where it shatters on impact with an unlucky cop car.

We stare up at the tower with bated breath, hoping against hope that nothing else collapses.  


	7. Going Someplace There's No Going Back

*****BARRY*****

We return to the police tape just as Ollie and Felicity emerge from the other side. "Not being bad boys and girls, are we?" he asks, eyeballing the wreckage of the "A" in "Palmer."

"Bad guys wouldn't so nicely reunite their friends, would they?" I point out. I take back Ray from Gwen and present him to his people.

Felicity, in particular, has a very shocked look on her face - which morphs into embarrassment when her phone unexpectedly rings. "That's probably Ray calling," I say. "I'm sorry - I must've hung up on him by mistake. Stupid me."

"What the..." Ollie can't form a complete sentence. "How? Did he...? He got...?"

"I got it, all right," Ray's voice says from Felicity's speakerphone. "I got it a bit too well, I think - 'cause now I'm, uh, kinda stuck here."

"Oh my God," Felicity breathes. "Stuck? You really can't...oh, but at least you're alive."

Ray chuckles, but it sounds creepily distorted over the phone. "Yeah, it's gonna take a lot more than this...big bada-boom to take me out. You probably can't see how big my hand gestures are, but that's okay. I'm sure God still can."

"Since when do you believe in God?" Ollie asks. He's trying not to laugh, but clearly can't help himself.

"That's a classic case of the pot calling the kettle black," Ray says.

Behind Ollie and Felicity, I see a tall man approaching. He's got severely short hair - almost none to speak of, other than shaved follicles - and an expression to match. At first, I'm scared he might be bad news. But then Ollie turns and sees him coming, and says, "Look what our friends found upstairs."

It's at this point that I finally remember the guy's name - Detective Quentin Lance, SCPD. It's been at least a year and a half since I saw him last, so it's no wonder I didn't recognize him right away. I take my cue and hold out my hand so Lance can examine it closely. "Don't tell me," he says in a deep voice with a bit of a Chicago twang. At least, I think it's Chicago - his accent's actually very hard to place, but it's definitely not the usual Canadian-tinged Pacific Northwestern that I've heard from, say, Ollie. "It's Ray Palmer, isn't it?"

"How'd you guess, Detective?" I ask.

"I'm a little more in on the secret with these guys than I used to be," Lance says. He jerks his thumb at Ollie and Felicity, one after the other, then adds, "It's Captain Lance now, by the way. But you probably didn't know that, did you?"

I blush a bit. "No one ever said I knew everything."

"So we've got some more friends with us, huh?" Lance asks. He looks at everyone else behind me. "Hmm. What, did you form your own _21 Jump Street_ superhero squadron down in Central City or something?"

"Nope," Peter says. "We're all from back east, actually."

"And we're kinda big on keeping our identities a secret," Gwen chimes in.

Lance nods. "Yeah, it's hard enough for me to keep up with my friends' misadventures. I don't need to know all the details about you guys. If Oliver vouches for you, that's good enough for me."

I'm about to respond when I hear tires screeching in the distance. Craning my neck, I look beyond Ollie and Lance and see a tall black Sprinter van tearing out of the entrance to the underground parking garage of the Palmer building. The contingent of uniformed officers surrounding the building tries in vain to stop them, but the van drives off after coming dangerously close to plowing the cops into the asphalt.

"Who was that?" Lance runs back to his nearest detective, then starts barking orders. Setting up perimeters, laying down spike strips, that sort of thing. They're not going to be fast enough to catch these guys. But as long as I'm around, they don't need to be.

I gently place Ray in Gwen's hand and say, "I'll be right back, okay?" Then I take off running. Unlike the driver of that van - whoever the hell he or she is - I'm much more careful to avoid hitting any cops in my path. It's beautiful, really, the way time slows down when I run. Or so my brain perceives it. The only change to the space-time continuum I've ever seen is the formation of wormholes, but aside from that, time really progresses at the same rate, in the same single direction. Constant. Unchanging. Except, like I said before, for those pesky wormholes.

I don't know about you, but I'm frankly sick of wormholes for a while. Give me more weather-related villainy. Even if there's some sick metahuman involved like, say, Weather Wizard, at least it'll be a nice change of pace for me and my friends.

I zip ahead of the cops until I'm out of the blockade zone around the tower, but the van is still a good two or three blocks ahead of me. Not for long, though. I run a little bit faster - I have to be careful because I'm wearing my civvies, which aren't as friction-proof as my uniform. Two blocks...one block...there, I'm caught up. They can't possibly see me coming. I slow down just a bit, keeping pace with the van and latching on to the door handle. I'm guessing they don't have child locks on this model, because the door opens the second I pull that handle. Then I jump in.

Huge mistake.

Inside the van is a middle-aged man with white-blond hair, like a long-lost Malfoy cousin or something. He calmly removes a pair of black gloves from his hands and says, "Hello, stranger. Who are you and why have we never met before?"

"I could ask you the same thing," I say. "I could also ask you if you blew up Palmer Tech."

The creepy blond guy laughs. "Oh, I was about to," he says, "but some lucky bastard beat me to it. Oh well. Win some, lose some. And since I'm reasonably certain Ray Palmer lost his life, I may have-"

I don't give him a chance to finish his monologue, because he's really getting on my nerves, this asshat. Recklessly, I lash out, speeding him out of the van and sending us both sprawling on the sidewalk. I collide with a lamppost, denting it - and sending spikes of pain tearing through my arm in the process.

I grit my teeth and face the other guy, who's getting to his feet himself. "This is a new one on me," he says. "Hmm. But whatever power you have couldn't save you from bashing yourself up, could it? Look at the way you're holding your arm - you must have broken it, huh?"

"No," I lie. My arm's already healing, I'm sure, but the pain still insistently radiates from the two halves of my radius as they grind together with every tiny movement I make.

"Then I'm sure you'll have no problem walking this off." The guy stretches out his hand, and I run up to him, ramming my shoulder blade - on my other arm, not the broken one - into his solar plexus.

He stays down for a second, but then gets up. I try to charge him again, but when he stretches out his hand again, I can't. It's not because my broken arm hurts me - it still does - but it's because I literally can't run at him. It's like there's an invisible wall resisting me.

"Are you a..." He's got to be a metahuman. The way he's holding out his hand five feet in front of me, and me unable to run - he must be telekinetic or something.

The guy backs away, his hand still outstretched. I can move forward as he widens the gap between us, but I can't get close enough to land any more blows. "If you see any of Ray Palmer's friends," he says as his van pulls back and he jumps through its open door, "tell them I said hi, okay, kid?"

At least he didn't make a joke about why I'm not in school right now. Haven't heard that one before, no sir.

The guy puts two fingers to his temple, then salutes me goodbye before closing the van door behind him. I can't run after the van, unfortunately - my arm's still demanding that I do something about it, preferably of the immobilization persuasion. I can only get about ten feet ahead at a time before I stop, wincing as my bones protest vehemently.

"OI!"

I whirl around to see a second blond stranger - this one less bleachy-looking than the other guy, sporting a beige trenchcoat on top of a rumpled suit in black and white. He's got a gun in one hand, and he doesn't look afraid to use it.

Behind me, irate drivers honk their horns. Realizing that I'm stopping traffic, I run to the sidewalk - at normal speed this time, which feels like walking pace by my standards.

Trenchcoat raises his gun in my face as I get off the street. "Don't come any closer," he says in a heavy Northern English accent. "Who sent you, angel?"

"What?"

He cocks the gun. I'd raise my hands, but in my current state, that would be nearly impossible. "Who sent you?" he repeats. "No human can run that fast! What's your name, angel?"

"I'm not an angel!" I yell. "I'm a metahuman!"

"'A metahuman,'" Trenchcoat scoffs. He doesn't lower his gun. I'm starting to calculate the odds of being able to subdue him, but they're not looking good at all.

My breath grows shallow as adrenaline finally puts an end to the pain, if only for a minute or so. All this stress is going to put me in an early grave, I swear to God. "I'm not an angel," I repeat in a more calm tone of voice.

"Prove it," Trenchcoat says. He gestures with his gun before adding, "Turn around and show me you don't have wings."

"If I turn around, you'll shoot me."

"You can just run away from any bullet I fire."

I shake my head. "No. I'm too vulnerable for that."

Trenchcoat's mouth quirks up. "Caught you at a bad time, yeah?"

"Whatever the hell you're doing here," I say, "just let me go. I need to get this-ow!"

Before I can stop him, Trenchcoat pins me to the wall, banging up my arm all over again - but now, I can tell it's no longer broken, just partially healed. He slaps my back a few times, then places his palm against my shoulders. "You're right," he mutters. "No wings. Still..."

I break away from him, narrowing my eyes. "I don't need this right now," I say. "Let's just be on our way, all right?"

I turn around and make to leave the scene, but Trenchcoat calls after me, "I should've known you weren't an angel from the start! No angel would take on Damien Darhk so foolishly!"

He's got me interested. "Damien Darhk?" I repeat. Last night, Oliver had mentioned that name at one point - Malcolm clued him in to it. I remember the bizarre spelling, and the fact that nobody could find any record of the guy online.

"He's touched by Lucifer himself, I think." Trenchcoat bites his lip, then puts his gun away. "That was him, the bloke you were fighting before. You got a taste of his power, I see."

"Are you looking for him too?" I ask.

"As much as I'd regret taking him on, yeah, I am." Trenchcoat approaches me again, setting off my internal alarms. "But you know what? I could do with an ally or two."

"Who are you?" I ask, unsure if I want to work with this guy.

"My name's John Constantine," he says. "You know those two Abercrombie & Fitch model brothers who fight demons on TV? I'm like them, but real. And less pretty."

"A demon hunter?" I ask. "So you're saying Damien Darhk's a demon? That might explain a lot."

"It sure would," Constantine says. "If anyone knew enough about him to say for certain." He steps closer to me, his hand outstretched - in a friendlier, less psychically-evil way than Damien Darhk did before. "Er...no hard feelings about the, ah, Spanish Inquisition before, right?"

"As long as you don't try and pull that kind of shit on my friends," I say, shaking hands with him - and only getting a little bit of pain as a result, because my arm's finally back to normal. "I'm Barry, by the way. Barry Allen."

"Nice to meet you, Barry," says Constantine. "Now...what 'friends' are we talking about? More...what was the word you used? 'Metahumans?'"

"A few," I say. "And some with certain special skills. You wanna come meet them?"

Constantine looks up at the sky. "Oh yeah. But only if we can get off the street. I think there's another storm coming, yeah?"

Following his example, I look up and see another wall of heavy, dark clouds building up from the west. "Great," I mutter. "This day just gets better, huh?"  


	8. Wish I Knew What You Were Looking For

*****PETER*****

"How far ahead could he have gone?" Grayson asks nobody in particular.

"That depends," I say. "How fast can Barry run, exactly?"

"Fast enough to punch a hole through the space-time continuum, right?" Gwen asks.

"We don't even wanna know how fast that must be," Olivia says, shuddering.

"Do we even know he's capable of making wormholes like that?" I ask.

"Reverse-Flash can," Gwen points out. "It stands to reason Barry can, too."

All these questions and answers and intensive talks keep us semi-distracted while we set off up the street, searching for Barry. Oliver and Felicity are in tow, and Captain Lance has stayed behind to coordinate with his officers.

"You've met Reverse-Flash?" Felicity asks. "We've only heard the horror stories from Barry."

"He's not as bad as you must think, then," Grayson says. "Hell, I think he's actually trying to redeem himself." He looks around a corner and shakes his head. "Damn, where did Barry get to? He could be anywhere by now!"

"I wouldn't say that." Oliver points ahead. We turn in that direction and see Barry coming back this way, accompanied by a blond man in a trenchcoat. What is he supposed to be, a Castiel cosplayer? If so, he's not doing the best job. He's got the wrong hair color, for one thing, and he has too much facial hair. Not to mention a rakish smile that wouldn't look right on our favorite angel.

"Barry!" I wave him over to us. "There you are - finally! Who's this?" I ask, indicating Not-Cas.

He doesn't answer me right away. Instead, he turns to Barry and stage-whispers in an English accent, "Are these the metahumans you were telling me about? I was expecting taller."

"Don't judge just based on me," Barry says. "I'm the exception to most of the metahuman rules. As are my friends." He blushes and smiles. "Sorry about the lack of manners, guys, but trust me, this guy's here to help."

"I would hope so," Oliver says, crossing his arms. "'Cause let me tell you guys - you don't wanna be on his bad side."

I catch the subtle nods exchanged between Oliver and Not-Cas, and then I ask, "You know him, don't you?"

"We've met," Not-Cas says shortly.

Barry takes charge of the introductions - which means he gives some super-condensed résumés, including any powers any of us may have - between us and his new friend. He's John Constantine, demon hunter. I should've guessed based on his attire - is that standard for people in his line of work? And here I used to think the standard was flannel, jeans, and beanies.

The wind picks up, and it starts getting cold again as clouds build up directly overhead. The sun still shines only because the storm is coming from the west - over the ocean, I remind myself, the opposite of how it would be in New York - and at this time of day, the sun is way up in the eastern sky. "You think this storm is natural?" I ask Oliver. "Or is this Malcolm's doing again?"

"It's natural," Oliver says. "I'm sure of it."

"We should find someplace to go indoors, though," Gwen says. "No need to stand around on the street getting soaked."

"I was gonna ask about that myself, actually," Barry says. "Do you know where's a good place to sit and talk around here, Ollie? I mean, it's the business district and all, but..."

"I was hoping to go on over to the library," Constantine cuts in. "I hear Central City's got a good one. Especially when it comes to my speciality."

"You mean, ghosts and demons and the like?" Olivia asks. "The occult?"

"Mm-hmm." Constantine tucks his hands in his pockets. "So, someone point the way, yeah?"

"It's about four or five blocks from here," Oliver says. "This way. Come on, guys!" He leads us north on the nearest side street, and from there, we take a few more turns until we find ourselves in front of a building that couldn't scream "library" any louder, even if it had the words "CENTRAL CITY PUBLIC LIBRARY" printed in even bigger letters on top of its entrance than it already did. It's one of those pseudo-Greco-Roman type buildings, complete with intricately crowned Corinthian columns.

Just as we enter the building - which has just opened as the stroke of ten has come and gone - rain starts to sprinkle on us. By the time we're all inside, the weather quickly morphs into a gusty, full-fledged storm all over again.

"I'll let Lance know where we are," Oliver says. "In case he needs us later."

"Let's hope we're not needed," Constantine says. "I have a lot to say. Let's go find the occult section, then."

"Upstairs," says Felicity. "Would you believe I used to practically live here when I was a kid?"

"I would, actually." Constantine smiles at Felicity, prompting a quick glare from Oliver, as if to say, "Paws off my lady."

"It's the glasses, isn't it?" Felicity groans. She shakes her head, her feet hitting the Formica stairs - they look like Formica, anyway - with a little extra force on each step.

"Yeah, that reminds me - whatever happened to those hipster glasses you used to wear, Peter?" Gwen nudges me in the side, chortling at her own joke. As well she should - she's the only person who's ever allowed to call this particular pair "hipster glasses."

"I don't really need them as long as I've got my contacts," I say. "I brought them with me as a backup - like, if I accidentally washed my contacts down the drain - but otherwise, my spex stay in my suitcase at all times."

Olivia pauses halfway up the steps and looks up at me, clearly trying to picture my dad's old glasses on my face. It would help if she had an idea of what exactly they looked like, probably. "For those of you wondering," I say, "they really do look like so-called 'hipster glasses,' but if you call them that, I'll web your faces."

"He's not kidding," Gwen laughs.

"You'll have to show them to us before you leave town," Oliver says. He's already moved past the second-floor landing - Felicity says the occult books are on the third floor.

"If we survive the rest of this adventure," I say. "I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Grayson remarks.

"Yeah," I say.

Before I can keep going, however, Gwen interrupts me with another one of our in-jokes. "But those are the best kind."

Everyone else laughs, except Constantine, who just looks confused. "D'you normally just keep on wisecracking your way through life?" he asks. "And don't try and tell me it's just an American thing. I do it myself, and I'm about as American as The Beatles."

"Really?" I snicker. "Never would've guessed."

Constantine eyeballs Barry warily. "Clearly," he says in a long-suffering voice, "I've come to the right people, haven't I?"

Oliver nods once. "There's nobody else within six hundred miles who can potentially understand your line of work like we can."

"I dunno," Felicity says. "What about that mouthy mercenary from Vancouver? The immortal guy in the red suit?"

"I think he's just a myth," Oliver says. "If he were real, Malcolm would brag about knowing him all the time, and he never does."

"Suddenly you refuse to believe in something?" Constantine scoffs. He looks at the directory just off the third-floor landing, and starts following the signs for "Occult Sciences." I'm not surprised to find that it's in the far back of the building, according to the map on the directory. "Next thing I know, you'll call me mad for saying that I met an Atlantean on the beach in Gotham yesterday."

"Gotham?" Grayson repeats. "That's where I'm from. Olivia, too." She nods along with him.

"I figured you were East Coasters," Constantine says. He looks at me and Gwen as well. "It's because-"

"Let me guess," I say. "Our accents?"

"More your attitudes," Constantine says. "You're more take-no-prisoners. Not like these laid-back West Coasters" - he raises his eyebrows at Oliver - "or, as Barry's people might say, _Californians._ " He says this in a lousy Valley Girl impression, nowhere near as good as the one that Ravi dude did yesterday.

"Not all California is Southern," Barry says. "And do all New Yorkers really think that stupid 'Californians' sketch is the funniest thing ever?"

"You don't?" Gwen gasps.

"He's right, though," Olivia says. "It's the same joke over and over."

Silence falls on us, however, as we enter the occult section. No, I promise, it's not blocked off by stone walls lined with blazing torches and a big, heavy wooden door. Nor is it soundtracked with ominous Latin chanting, nor is it populated by silently sinister monks or anything. And unless I miss my guess, none of the books will scream or drip blood if you try to read them without the librarian's express permission.

In short, everything looks utterly normal. But there's a faint smell of old paper all around, as if none of the books on the shelves have been updated in the last fifty years or so. Hell, I'd be surprised if any of them were checked out in that time. At least they do a good job of keeping the place clean - I run my finger along one shelf and it doesn't come away with a mile-high layer of dust.

Constantine copies my finger-running gesture, but based on the way his lips move soundlessly, he's looking for something in particular. He soon finds that something, a good-sized volume whose spine reads _Immortals._ The rest of the title, I can't read it, because it's covered by his hand.

"Right," he says, slamming the book on the nearest table and paging through it furiously. "One question before we get started - what do you know about the Lazarus Pit?"

"We know a bit," Oliver says. Felicity nods, but other than that, the two of them stay tight-lipped.

Constantine's eyebrow rises. "And you say you don't believe in that Vancouverite mercenary who just won't die no matter how horribly you mutilate him? I'd call that a sort of selective atheism, yeah?" He stops rifling through the book and spreads open its pages, revealing a full-sized illustration of a man stepping into a faintly green-glowing hot spring.

Barry elbows me and Grayson gently. "That's a little more man-ass than I needed to see this morning," he whispers. Grayson and I are both forced to stifle some serious, immature fits of the giggs.

Constantine pouts at Barry. "I could appreciate it a little longer myself. This artist really knows his or her anatomy. A regular Michelangelo...although I'd hope this man doesn't have a _David_ -like case of micropenis." He allows himself a bark of laughter. "Even the Lazarus Pit can't cure that, mates."

"Let me guess," Gwen says. "It has something to do with immortality?"

"You got that from the Biblical origins of its name, didn't you?" Constantine scoffs. "Whatever bloody god invented this had no Biblical intentions in mind, I'm sure." He turns the page and starts reading the text - which the rest of us have trouble reading, because he's holding it upside down relative to us, and there's almost no room to stand behind him and read over his shoulder. Not with this table tucked into such an isolated corner.

"What does this have to do with Damien Darhk?" I ask.

"I only hope my theory is wrong," Constantine says. "Simply put...you know that lake of yours, the one that's currently freezing over? I'm thinking Darhk's here to turn that lake into his own personal Lazarus Pit."  


	9. She Could've Been A Killer

*****BARRY*****

"Um..." I'm not sure how to respond to this. "Well, first off, _ew._ Second off, does he seriously think this is even possible?"

"He's going for it, isn't he?" Constantine asks. "And I know one thing about Darhk - he's batshit crazy, but he's no fool. If he can do it, he'll get it done."

"Just like he got the explosion done?" asks Ray through Felicity's phone. I'm afraid to ask how much longer she intends to keep that line open, because sooner or later, she'll run out of battery power and have to plug the phone in. "Assuming that was this Darhk fellow's doing too, of course."

"We can't leave anything to chance as long as he's involved," says Constantine. He turns the page, then closes the book completely. "Don't put anything past Damien Darhk, that's what I always say."

"Since when?" asks Ollie.

"Since today."

I stare out a rain-lashed window for what seems like the umpteenth time in the last twelve hours. While I watch the irregular, chaotic patterns the water leaves behind as it streaks down the glass, a bizarre thought comes to mind. Automatically, I try to banish it, but it refuses to go away until I voice it to Constantine and everyone else. "Would Malcolm know about this?" I ask. "And...and is that why he's freezing the lake?"

"You mean, is that his way of trying to stop Darhk before he can put his plan into action?" asks Grayson.

"Sounds drastic," Gwen comments.

"Just like you won't put anything past Darhk" - Constantine grins at Ollie's words - "I won't put anything past Malcolm. He's not to be trusted at all." With that, his phone rings - and I notice that the ringtone is "But There's Wolves?" "Hi, Thea," he says. "Whatever you've got, let's make this fast. I forgot to silence my phone before coming to the library, so I'm pretty sure the library police will be coming after me and my friends any second." He laughs out loud, then says, "No, seriously. I'm. In. The. Library. Is that really so hard for you to believe?"

I stifle a laugh as Ollie stalks off into the stacks to keep on talking to Thea. When he comes back, he says, "She's at Lake Dante as we speak. And guess who's freezing the lake up again?"

"Damn his guts," Felicity groans.

"But if he's really doing this for the purpose I think he is..." My voice trails off.

"Well, sure, it's gonna have some negative effects, but the benefits would outweigh them, to an extent," says Peter. "Right?"

"I dunno," Olivia says. She jerks her thumb at the window. "I don't think this much rain is healthy for anyone. Even by Other Rainforest standards."

"No, it's not," says Ray. "Especially not for me. Speaking of which, someone's gonna need to stick me in some waterproof pocket if you're gonna go outside in this weather, okay?"

"We're all good for those," I say. "Some more so than others." I direct that last part to Constantine's trenchcoat.

Constantine, for his part, stretches out his hand, and Ollie (who's been holding Ray this whole time, I guess) hands our micro-man friend to him. "Don't mind me," Ray says. "Just think of it as some wild new adv...oh wow," he says as Constantine sticks him in his pocket and closes it. "Why do you have a big-ass feather rolled up in here?"

"That's no feather, it's a back scratcher," Constantine laughs. "You're not allergic, are you? I could move you to my other pocket...on second thought, better not." He pats that other pocket, and says, "Oh no, I didn't bring my Corto Maltese catnip with me. Then it should be safe."

"I'm not allergic to anything," Ray says. "Except bullshit." He fake-sneezes for effect.

"Then I'd better move you anyway," Constantine says. "'Cause I know I keep the peacock feather with my civet coffee - you know, the kind that's processed in the animal's digestive tract?"

"Urgh," Ray groans. "Enough already, man. I get it, you have weird-ass shit in your pockets, 'cause you're a weird-ass guy." He clears his throat, then adds, "Can I just go radio-silent for a while? I kinda didn't sleep last night, so..."

"No, no, of course," Ollie says. "Don't let us stop you."

"Just check in again whenever you wake up, okay?" I ask.

"Roger Wilco." I imagine Ray sleepily saluting us before hanging up. Felicity thumbs her phone to lock it, then slips it back into her pocket.

Ollie's phone rings again, but this time with a different, even more ironic ringtone: the opening drum fill to "Rumour Has It." "Shit, I really should've silenced this...yeah, Diggle, what's up?" he asks as he holds the phone to his ear. "You got an eye on our guy?"

"He's already got him tracking Darhk?" I ask Felicity in an undertone.

"This is Oliver we're talking about," she reminds me. "He's very good at this. It's a wonder he hasn't run for mayor yet. But the next election's 18 months away, so..." She smiles at him fondly. "Wouldn't that be something? Mayor Oliver Queen. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"Yeah, it does," I say. "I just hope it wouldn' t open you guys up to any more danger."

"None more so than usual, you mean?"

"Mm-hmm."

Ollie returns to the room, and Constantine, presumably anticipating what he'll say next, stands up and shelves the book. "We gotta go," he says. "Darhk's making his way up to Lake Dante as we speak."

"Should I be in charge of getting us there before he does?" I ask.

Ollie nods. "Good idea, but don't take too many of us at once. Unless...how many can your Speed Force handle?"

"I don't exactly wanna put it to the test," I say. "Every time I try something new these days, I wreck the space-time continuum and break the universe, again. So..." I count everyone. Two from Team Spidey, two from Team Nightwing, two from Team Arrow, and Constantine. "I'll do it in one group of four, and one group of three," I decide. "Just tell me where to go, Ollie."

"Same place where we met Malcolm last night," Ollie says. "Salish Dam."

"Got it." I invite Peter, Gwen, Grayson, and Olivia to line up on either side of me, then I start running with the five of us all holding hands. Along the way, I stop a couple of times. Not only to get my bearings, but also to ensure that we don't try to run the whole way there in one burst. I learned the hard way that doing so tends to cause unwanted friction to build up and set other people's clothes - and sometimes mine, if I'm not wearing the Flash suit, like right now - on fire. Note to self: stop at Ollie's place on the way back and grab the suit, just to minimize those chances for myself. And maybe grab Peter's and Grayson's suits as well, and Ollie's if he keeps it there. And if he's okay with me picking it up for him.

Turns out, he is - although the suit is kept not at his apartment, but instead in the secret basement lab of his inner sanctum beneath Verdant nightclub. I can't help but notice that the lab is ridiculously dusty. I waste about twenty seconds sneezing up a storm when I open the lockbox containing Ollie's suit. I've never really had problems with allergies, but the amount of particles I've just released into the air is unbelievable. I mean, I know Ollie's been out of town for a while so he can get his head straight after all the super-dark Batman-type shit he's been put through this year, but just how long has he been gone for the place to turn into a borderline archaeological dig? Wouldn't Diggle or Thea have put the basement to good use, rather than keeping it in mothballs?

Once we're on top of the dam, Ollie puts his Arrow suit on over his clothes and reconnects to Diggle. Peter isn't so lucky - he has to duck away into a nearby maintenance shed to get his suit on. Grayson, however, just has to put on his domino mask and red-chevron hoodie.

"Don't you have a more traditional superhero suit?" I ask. "You know, spandex, skintight, like mine or Spidey's?"

"Someone say something about me?" Peter asks as he emerges from the shed, looking no different than when he went in - other than having a bit of his suit visible under the neck of his shirt until he zips his hoodie into place against the rain.

"I left my spandex in Gotham," Grayson quips. "Besides, I can't risk any of you being distracted by the shape of my beautiful bod."

"Tsk, tsk. You keep telling yourself that, Grayson," Olivia says, shaking her head. "You just keep telling yourself that."

Gwen winks at her. "You say that to him all the time like I do to Peter?"

"Maybe not those exact words," Olivia says, "but-"

"Believe me, she does," Grayson cuts in. "But it's okay, 'cause she's wonderful and I love her."

"As much as I love Gwen?" Peter asks. He leans over and pulls Gwen close to him so he can kiss her cheek, which glows an even brighter rosy red as a result.

"I wanna say 'more than,'" Grayson laughs, "but I know better than to try and turn love into a competition."

I laugh along with the two couples of lovebirds, then move aside and ask Constantine, "You really think Darhk's...what was it you said? 'Satan's Favorite Son?'"

"I believe I said he was 'touched by Lucifer,'" Constantine says, "but don't quote me on that. Why?"

"'Cause now I'm starting to think I should pray to God to protect us," I say. "And I'm not a terribly faithful man."

"I wouldn't have guessed from looking at you." Constantine adjusts his tie before adding, "You'd do better to pray for a lover, mate."

I sigh, and my breath forms a cloud in front of my face. "I know. I hate being single. But them's the breaks when the one you love doesn't love you."

"You sure of that?" Constantine chuckles. "Have you even asked her? Assuming we're talking about a woman, of course. As you Americans might say, I'm a switch-hitter myself, not that it really matters 'cos I've been ages without getting into bed with anyone, but-"

"She's of the female persuasion, yeah." He delivers a withering look to me for interrupting him, but I press on anyway. "And even if she does have feelings for me, it'd be...inappropriate to act on them right now."

"Why's that?"

"Her boyfriend died, then came back to us," I say. He opens his mouth, and I hastily add, "No, no, it's not what you might think. He's not a zombie or a vampire or whatever. He's just...the same guy. Just from another universe, is all."

"I don't deal in parallel universes," Constantine says, crossing his arms. "Not my kind of paranormal."

"Shouldn't you button up?" I ask. "It's getting colder."

"You clearly don't have my English blood," Constantine says with a grin.

"You'd be surprised. Although I'm sure I'm part-Irish on my dad's side."

"Then you should've been eaten as a child," Constantine laughs, nudging my arm. "Like Swift said in his 'Modest Proposal.' You look like you haven't outgrown your lean boyish state much, have you?"

"You're not the first to suggest I should gain weight," I say. "You won't be the last, either. Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"No, but you're fetching enough to potentially attract any girl you'd like on looks alone," Constantine says.

"Thanks," I say. "I guess."

Before our conversation can continue, however, I hear someone running along the road nearby. Turning to the right, I see Malcolm approaching us. At least he's not going for a stealth hello this time. I hate that about him, along with so many other obnoxious aspects of his personality.

"How'd you get here so fast?" he asks. Then he sees me and says, "Never mind. They're coming in...two minutes?"

I run down the road until I find what can only be Damien Darhk's van winding its way uphill. "More like one," I say when I come back.

"I was close, wasn't I?" Malcolm comments.

Less than a minute later, Darhk arrives at the scene. At the same time, I see something move around in the shadows under the trees nearby. Is it an animal? Vegetable? Mineral? Metahuman?

Darhk steps out of the van, followed by a couple of minions. "Oh hi, Malcolm," he says with a happy wave. "You and your friends didn't have to put all this together just for-"

Before he can keep going with his snarky intro, however, a figure leaps out from behind the trees. It's human, female, dressed in a tight leather suit not unlike Ollie's, but red instead of green. She pulls a bow out, loads a couple of arrows, and fires both of them right into the minions' shoulders.

I gape at her as I finally recognize her face, even with the mask covering her eyes. "Thea?" I breathe.

She hears me, I think, and she hesitates. A second too long, I think.

Darhk turns around as she fires a third arrow his way. He telepathically stops it, then turns it around and sends it straight back at Thea. I have to run out to intercept it.

"I could've dodged it myself," she says.

"I know," I say, "but don't you think you could do with some insurance?"

"Hate to break it to you, kids," Darhk says, "but I do have more men on my side than these two. Maybe even a couple of women." He jerks his thumb backwards, drawing our attention to a number of black combat-suited people emerging from the forest.

"Oh, boy," I say. "Guys? Are we ready for this?"

"Hell no," Peter calls back. "But since when are any of us ever ready?"  


	10. Confidence In You Is Confidence In Me

*****PETER*****

While Barry and Thea lead the charge, I run around them and get behind some of the oncoming hordes we're facing. Luckily, with my rubber-soled suit, I have much better traction on the wet road - and, later, on the wet dirt under the trees - than do any of these guys in their clunky jackboots.

Seriously. Freaking jackboots.

Really? Who does Darhk think he is, _der Führer?_ I'll show this Fokker who's boss, along with all my friends!

"Gwen! Get over here!" I wave her over from behind the nearest tree to the top of the dam.

"What is it?" she asks when she makes her way to my current position. "What's your idea?"

"I'll lay down a bunch of weblines through the woods," I say. "While I spread it around, tie the webs to as many trees as you can."

She nods once. Before we can get started, though, she grabs my arm. "By any chance did you see anything electric in that shed?" she asks.

"Like what? Plugs?"

"No, just any device. I think if we can somehow electrify the webs when we drive these goons into them - that's what you've got in mind, right?"

"You know me too well," I say. I look over to the maintenance shed, then something clicks in my mind. "I got it! There was this portable jumper-cable in there. If we get that, we could use it to fry the shit out of these guys!"

"I'll get it," Gwen says. "You just concentrate on laying the trap, all right?"

"Well, someone needs to help me tie the weblines in place," I say. "I can't really do it all by myself."

"Do what you can," Gwen says. She squeezes my hand, then turns and runs back to the shed.

I cast my eyes over the fight going on in front of me. While I wish I could be in the thick of things, I know that someone's got to be the one to do this behind-the-scenes kind of work. But while Gwen's hunting for the one key ingredient, I need to let the others in on the plan.

I start, of course, with Oliver and Felicity. They're quick to catch on to my idea, and quick to agree with it. Felicity, however, adds one good question. "You think we can herd them all into the woods like that?" she asks. "They may have a bit of a hive mentality, but..."

Her voice trails off as we watch Darhk point at one cluster of soldiers, who all swivel their heads even as Grayson keeps on knocking their heads together. Those that Grayson doesn't get, they go after he when Darhk points his finger at him instead.

"Definitely a hive mentality," I say. "So all we have to do is make sure Darhk directs his creeps the way we want them to go."

"That should be easy." Oliver fires a couple of arrows into that cluster in quick succession, taking out the nearest goons to us while leaving the rest for Grayson to take care of on his own.

Or not - because I detour over to him next so I can talk strategy with him. Good thing too, because he makes a valid point when he says, "Why are you gonna web up the woods on that side of the road? That's where these guys are coming from, and there's more on the way!"

"Then we'll just work on the other side," I say. "Nobody's coming from down the mountain, am I right?"

"This barely even counts as a mountain," he laughs. "You should see some of the peaks in the Himalayas. Now _those_ are mountains!" He punches an incoming mook backhanded, right in the nose.

"Head wounds always bleed a _lot_ ," I observe, seeing dark globules stream down from his nostrils. "I suggest you pinch that, all right, guy? Or...or maybe stick a blowtorch up your nose? Worked for my old Honors Geometry teacher when he was a boy in Puerto Rico."

Grayson's eyes widen under his mask. "Are you kidding?"

"Would I make something like that up?" I ask. "I'm not as good as inventing things on the fly as most people think I am."

Grayson casts his eyes around for a second. "Okay, let's send a few of these guys to Olivia. She's already using her power on them, I think."

I watch as Olivia knees a soldier in the abdomen, then tears off his mask and pulls up his face so she can look him in the eye. I expect him to start crying, or rocking on the ground in the fetal position, or both. Instead, though, he looks...joyful. No shit - he starts skipping around the scene like he's got bluebirds landing on his arms and the sun shining like a spotlight on his face. Which would likely make him go blind, but let's not go there.

"Yeah, you get on that," I say. "I've still gotta talk to everyone else, okay?"

"Got it." Grayson gives me the thumbs-up, then heads over to Olivia. I, on the other hand, make tracks for Barry and Thea.

"Oh, hi there," Thea says when I approach. "Hang on a sec..." She jumps onto the roof of Darhk's van and starts whacking soldiers with her blood-red bow.

Barry zips up next to me in a spray of yellow lightning. "Where's Thea?" he asks. Then he looks up and sees her on top of the van. "Oh. Never mind. That answers that."

"We're gonna try to direct these guys into the woods," I say. "On the other side of the road," I add, pointing to where Gwen's waiting for me with the jumper cable box.

"Good idea," Barry says. "Just make sure Thea knows, okay?"

"I'm just about to talk to her," I say.

With that, Barry takes off running again, and I join Thea on the van, pushing off a mook so I can talk to her alone. "Did you hear what Barry and I were talking about just now?" I ask.

"Uh...yeah." Thea thrusts out her bow, forcing me to duck while she nails a soldier in the shoulder. "Something about getting these guys into the woods?"

"Yeah."

"All right, good," she says. "I was wondering when one of you geniuses would come up with a winning tactic."

The metal under my feet vibrates gently, and I look down to see a black-gloved hand reaching up from below, off to one side. It's a simple matter for me to raise my foot and bring it down on his fingers. Not enough to break them, but enough to surprise their owner and make him lose his grip. Another one comes up behind Thea, and I weave around her (pun intended) to web him in the face.

Sadly, however, the third time's not the charm. Even with the aid of my Spidey-senses, I can't stop the next soldier from grabbing Thea's ankle and pulling her down to the ground. She lands on the asphalt, groaning, and the soldier keeps on kicking her in the ribs.

"Oh, not cool!" I yell. I'm about to put a stop to this, but Thea can take care of herself. She takes a few more lickings, but then her leg snaps up and she kicks her attacker right in the chin. I have the nasty feeling that with his head bouncing off the inside of his helmet as a result, he might have a nice concussion as a parting gift.

Except Thea's not done with him just yet. She's pissed, and justifiably so, I think. But still, the way she's really kicking this guy while he's down is starting to disturb me.

"Thea?" I land next to her and try to pull her back, but she pushes me away and I find myself colliding with a tree.

"Thea!" Barry runs up and brings her a few feet away from the fallen soldier. She keeps on kicking until he takes hold of her face and forces her to look at him. "Thea, what are you doing? He's done! Stop!"

Oliver catches sight of them and runs up to join them, shooting off several arrows in the process.

"Go!" Barry orders me. "Gwen's waiting for you to get started!"

"Oh, right!" I run through the crowd, passing by Oliver and Constantine along the way. The latter, I give him the plan at last.

"Excellent," Constantine says. "But if you'll excuse me...Darhk's not the only one with that old black magic!" He spreads his arms, both fists clenched, then flames shoot out of his hands. The soldiers who are currently facing him cringe at the sight, then run away en masse. Even Darhk can't manipulate them into putting themselves into that much danger, not that he doesn't try. "You might wanna give me about a five-foot radius," Constantine says.

I obey his orders and get under cover in the woods, then turn around to see him blast everything around him with white-hot hellfire. There's really no other way to describe the power of his attack, which reduces one of Darhk's people to cinders.

"Ouch," I say wryly.

"Oh, don't feel too bad," Constantine says. "Anyone who's easily taken in by this man's empty promises must already have some inherent evil inside their souls." He rubs his hands together, letting off a few sparks. "Trust me, if I were to take this bloke down to LA to meet Lucifer himself, he'd have a ball making him suffer. Even though he's given up the Hellish throne, but let's not go there."

"Lucifer lives in LA?" I ask.

"Well, where else would he go?" Constantine asks knowingly.

Not sure if I want to know any more about this, I leave Constantine with his flaming fists of fury and rejoin Gwen on the edge of the woods.

"This is what you wanted, right?" she asks, hefting a sizable cuboid object in both hands.

I look down at what she's holding. It's a metal box with the two poles of a typical jumper cable attached to either side. Aunt May bought one of those at Costco recently after one too many times of me being unable to start the old Outback I inherited from Uncle Ben, and I've gotten plenty of use out of it in the last couple of months.

"Is it charged?" I ask. Rather than wait for an answer, I hit the right buttons to show me the current charge level. Fully juiced, thank God.

"Is that for what I think it's for?" asks Malcolm.

Gwen fumbles the box as we're both surprised by his return. "Where the hell did you come from?" she asks. Then she grumbles to herself as she picks the box back up.

"Haha, I'm sorry," Malcolm says in the most insincere way imaginable. "But since you two are new here compared to Ollie and Felicity and even Barry, I figured you'd make easy targets. Good to know my stealth skills aren't on the blink." He runs off again, then demonstrates those same stealth skills on Darhk himself - except Darhk is much harder to fool, so he turns around at exactly the right time to stop Malcolm by raising his arm. It makes me think of a boxer guarding his face.

"Okaaay..." I drawl. "Let's, uh, let's get this started, all right?"

Gwen nods, then lays the box behind a tree while I run around and string a few hundred feet of webline between the trees on the edge of the road. As soon as we're done tying the weblines together, we run back to the box and carry it to the rough center of our trap. Gwen whistles to Oliver, who helps lead most of our friends - along with the vast majority of Darhk's merry men and women, who follow us at his command - towards the woods.

Our people stop just short of the trees, while Darhk's, they end up running right where we want them to run. They tangle themselves up in the web, then Gwen connects the two halves of the jumper cable to the webline while I hit the switch to turn the box on.

Ten seconds later, Darhk's soldiers are reduced to what can only be described as a mass of groaning, sizzling human carapaces.

This leaves Darhk standing alone like the biggest cheese in existence.

"Hate to break it to you," Oliver says in a deep voice as he trains his arrow on our villain, "but you're done here, Darhk."

"For now," Darhk says. "You can't keep on guarding this dam forever. Sooner or later, you'll slip up, and I'll be waiting to make my move." He backs away slowly, then gets back into the driver's seat of his van before driving away.

"Whoa, wait, are we just gonna let him go?" I ask.

"We'll be waiting too," Malcolm says. "He's not gonna execute this stupid plan of his. What's he gonna do, anyway, with a giant Lazarus Pit where this lake used to be?"

"I dunno," I say. "What _do_ you do with a giant Lazarus Pit? Do you use it to resurrect your entire army all at once?"

"No," Constantine says, "but you could potentially use it to birth an entire evil army in one go."

"Seriously?" Grayson asks.

"Yeah," says Constantine with a grimace. "Just say the right Latin words while you're skinny-dipping in its soothing hot waters, and you're good to go." He then scoffs and shakes his head. "And I've also heard that part of the process requires the spellcaster to pleasure himself while reciting said Latin words."

"Ew" is all any of us can say.

"You didn't think the demon hordes would just reproduce by budding and that'd be the end of it? No, they need a little catalyst, and that's made in any man's baby factory."

"Ew" echoes all around the clearing once again.

"Believe it or not," Constantine says, "there's a reason why we're always told not to masturbate." He cracks his knuckles and rolls his shoulders. "Any bodily fluids being let go that easily are just inviting demonic trickery to wreak havoc on your body and your DNA."

"That's not for real, is it?" I ask.

"Maybe," Constantine says. "It's sometimes hard to tell which customs are actually meant to protect you from demons - and angels, 'cause they're not very nice either - and which are just bullshit made up by those who think they know the right way to interpret the bloody Bible."

Oliver clears his throat, and when he starts talking again, he's gone back to using his normal voice. "While Darhk's gone off to regroup, so should we. Mal-" He turns and sees that Malcolm's already gone. "Oh, of course. But...yeah, we're going back to Starling, guys. We'll get a little break at my place, and then we'll start making plans for our next encounter with Darhk over dinner."

From behind the van, Thea and Barry emerge. She's holding her side, and she says, "Can our dinner be Toto's Pizza?"

"You read my mind," Oliver says. "Are you all right?"

"Nothing a little aspirin can't fix," she says. "And maybe a few industrial-size Band-Aids for my ribcage." She rebuffs Barry's attempt to hold on to her, until he points out that we have no ride back to Starling. Reluctantly, she agrees to let him hold her hand, but only long enough to speed her - along with the rest of us, in two batches once again - back to town, and to Oliver's apartment.  


	11. There's A Side To You That I Never Knew

*****BARRY*****

"Barry, could you help me out here?" Ollie calls me from down the hall, and I slide off the couch to go meet him.

"What's up?" I ask.

He gestures to his bedroom door, which is closed - and locked, as he shows me when he tries in vain to open it. "Thea's spent the last twenty minutes holed up in here, and I'm getting worried," he says. "But because she'll never trust me again if I come bursting in..."

"Oh, so you want me to be the bad guy?"

Ollie winks. "Not necessarily. I'm sure she'll open up to you more than she would with me."

"I heard that!" Thea cries from behind the door.

I look at Ollie questioningly. "You sure this is a good idea?"

"Hey, don't raise your eyebrows at me," Ollie laughs. "Eagles like to perch on those things."

I laugh along with him, but then the good humor vanishes, sucked down a metaphorical drain, as I approach the door and knock gently. "Thea? Can I come in? Please?"

There's a gap of about two seconds before she answers. "Being polite helps. Okay, Barry. But only you, all right?"

"Yeah, of course."

I wait for her to unlock the door from inside, then I run through it before Ollie can follow me across the threshold. Thea's waiting on the other side, and she's quick - though not metahumanly so - to lock the door all over again.

"I can see why you wouldn't want Ollie to come in," I say.

Reflexively, Thea covers her chest with her hands, though it does nothing for her bare midriff. The only thing she's wearing above the waist is a sports bra. I try not to get distracted by that particular sight - which, of course, is harder than it sounds. Especially because what I want to focus on instead is dangerously close to her undergarments.

"Is that from today?" I ask, pointing at the bruises lining her ribs.

"'Fraid so." Thea sits on the edge of Ollie's bed, pulls her shirt on, and sighs, dropping her head into her hands.

"Speaking of today," I ask as today's latest Salish Dam incident comes back to mind, "what happened to you?"

Thea points at her side. "You just saw what happened," she says.

"That's not what I mean," I say, dialing up the firmness of my voice the way Joe does when he's trying to have a heart-to-heart with me. "Um...well, how do I put this? You were, uh, a little bit of a wild child on the battlefield."

"Understatement of the year," she scoffs. "It's something I've had to deal with for a while, and you were just unlucky enough to witness it today."

"What exactly is it?" I ask. "Don't hold back, okay? If something's bothering you-"

Thea looks up at me and holds up her hand, cutting me off. "If Ollie sent you in here to get me to spill the beans to him-"

"This is between us," I say. Huh - who would've thought that twice in less than 24 hours, I'd be acting as a therapist for my fellow heroes? I can see the sign on my office door now - "Barry Allen, M.D., Meta.Psy.D, Pnk.Fl.D, BAMF."

"Promise?"

I nod.

"Okay." Thea tucks her hair behind her ears and talks. "I'm not gonna bore you with all the details, but...let's just say I wound up in the Lazarus Pit, and I think I might've come back wrong. And...and I think it might be 'cause I'm Malcolm's daughter."

This is a new one on me, especially the latter confession. "You're...?"

"What, Ollie didn't tell you?" Thea laughs bitterly. "That's okay. He must've finally figured out that it's my responsibility, and only mine, to come out as a villain's flesh and blood. Yeah, Ollie and I are only half-siblings. He's the lucky one, though, being all of zero percent Merlyn."

"Well, I know Malcolm's an odd duck," I say, "and he's done some...shall we say, misguided things-"

Thea interrupts me again. "I didn't ask you in here for a pity party," she says. "I just needed to confess to someone." Her lip trembles, and she draws herself into a stiff, guarded stance, like a turtle about to retreat into its shell.

"Hey." I take her hand, even though I'm only...maybe 38% sure she won't bite mine off. "Whatever your issues are, you shouldn't just hold them back."

"Maybe I should," she says, tears forming in her eyes. "I'm easily provoked into a homicidal rage these days. Malcolm loves that about me-"

"Of course-"

"But nobody else does."

I take her other hand, and on both of hers, I gently press my thumbs into her knuckles. Okay, maybe it's a little soon to get this close with her, but she needs some affection and encouragement, and as long as I'm here... "I can't tell you how to keep a lid on your emotions," I say, "because I'm lousy at it myself. But..." I swallow, then reach up to wipe the tears from her face. "You said you went into the Lazarus Pit and that's when this all started? Then I suggest you talk to Constantine. He might know a way to help you."

She laughs weakly. "What if I don't wanna give up my dark side?"

"You work with the Arrow," I remind her. "I'd be surprised if you did."

Seized by a sudden urge, I lean forward and kiss Thea's cheek. In response, she embraces me tightly and whispers into my ear, "Thanks, Barry."

"Don't mention it," I say, returning the hug and stroking her hair.

She takes a tissue to her eyes to dry them better, then opens the door and says, "You can have the bathroom if you want, Ollie!"

"Wasn't waiting for it!" he calls after her as she disappears down the hall.

As I get off the bed and make my way to the door, Ollie sticks his arm into my path to stop me. "So...by any chance does your super-speed also kick in when you're in bed?"

I fall over laughing.

"Yeah, I thought not," Ollie says when he's had his fair share of laughter at his own joke. "But if it did...I might just have to disavow all knowledge of your existence."

"' _Barry Allen, you have failed this girl?_ '" I say.

"And I'll definitely disavow you if you bastardize my old catchphrase like that again," Ollie laughs. "Wasn't even funny, man."

I shake my head. "No, no, definitely not." However, I can't help but keep on half-smiling as my brain continues to process Ollie's blue humor.

A few minutes later, we all gather in the living room and the kitchen, where pizza boxes, Ianto's Soda bottles, and talk of how to stop Darhk fill the space.

"As much as Malcolm's strategy is working for now," Ollie says, "it's strictly short-term." He drums his fingers on his paper plate, then adds, "The environmental implications are too great for us to ignore. What we need-"

Peter raises his hand. After Ollie stops talking, he says, "Can we think of any other place that's just as good for building an industrial-sized Lazarus Pit?"

"What?" Grayson asks.

"I thought we were trying to stop Darhk," Gwen says, "not help him shop around for alternate sites!"

I snap my fingers. "No, I think I get what he's trying to say. We find this alternate site, lure Darhk there, and..."

"Oh." Grayson chuckles to himself, blushing the whole time. "Oh, that's better. That's what you had in mind, Pete?"

"Mm-hmm."

"It makes sense to me," says Constantine. "Traditionally, the Lazarus Pit has always been in a cavernous setting. Someplace with natural, geothermal heating." He leans forward and lays his elbows on the granite countertop on either side of his plate. I notice that he's barely touched his pizza. I'm sure they have it in England too, but the way he looks at it, you'd swear it was his first time touching the stuff. "Which made me wonder, the first time I heard about it, why the hell Darhk wanted a huge open-air location like Lake Dante."

"You asking us?" Felicity laughs.

Gwen picks a piece of mushroom off her pizza and sticks it into her mouth, chewing thoroughly for a few seconds. "I still don't like it," she says. "I mean, even if there's another setting...how do we convince Darhk to go for it?"

"Sure, we haven't seen much of him," Olivia says, "but it's pretty clear he's no fool." She cracks her knuckles and says, "The first thing I could think of is...well, no, it wouldn't work."

"You mean Malcolm?" I ask. "You think he could cut some kind of deal with Darhk?"

"If anyone could do it..." Ollie says, looking up at the ceiling. Absently, he grabs his phone and dials a number. "Malcolm? No, it's not Barry - why would I have him call on my phone? What?"

I nearly lose my pizza from my mouth. "Do we really sound that alike?" I ask. "Me and Ollie, that is."

"I dunno about you and him," Gwen says, "but you and Peter? You're much more likely to be mistaken for each other by your voices alone."

"No, seriously," Ollie says, his tone exasperated. "It's me. Malcolm...how would you feel about making a deal with the devil? Or...what was it you called him again, Constantine?"

"'Touched by Lucifer,'" Constantine says, equally exasperated.

"Close enough." Ollie uncovers the mike on his phone, then says, "We've got an idea for how to deal with Darhk. Do you know any places that might fit the bill even better for an artificial Lazarus Pit?" Pause. "Of course you do. We're all ears."

I nudge Grayson and Peter both. "You guys ready to end this guy?"

"And his stupid-ass world domination plot?" Peter chuckles.

"Anything to liven things up before we have to go back home, right?" says Gwen.

I catch Thea's eye, and she smiles at me as I approach her. "I know I'm ready," she says. "Just promise me one thing. If I get too caught up in the heat of-"

"I'll be there," I say. I take her hand - yeah, I could get used to this. Although we're probably destined to _not_ be together forever or anything, it still feels nice, being able to comfort her. Then I look around at everyone else - some of whom are looking at me with a bit of bewilderment - and I add, " _We'll_ be there."

Thea's mouth turns up at the corners, then breaks into a full-blown smile. "Thanks," she says. "Again."

I turn to Ollie, but he's busy talking to Malcolm and doesn't see me. Whatever - I still feel like he's going to find some time and place to kick my ass after all is said and done with Darhk.  


	12. Motion In The Ocean

*****PETER*****

"When I was bitten," I say, "I got Spider-senses and Spider-climbing. But what Spider-power did I _not_ get? Spider-swimming."

Barry looks down through the mesh catwalk on which we're standing. Below us, water churns in the treatment plant's massive tank. This water's been freshly desalinated, and is ready to send through the system to paying customers throughout the rough Starling neighborhood known as "the Glades."

"I'm kinda weird in the water," Grayson says. "I mean, I've got the muscle to keep me competitive, but it plays havoc with my buoyancy."

"Think of it this way," Barry says. "You just have to work harder to float."

"Kinda defeats the purpose, doesn't it?" Grayson laughs. "I thought floating was supposed to be easy."

Over the earpieces Oliver provided us, we hear Gwen shush us. "Darhk's coming," she says. "He's just arrived, and Malcolm's greeting him as we speak."

"A meeting of the diabolical minds," Oliver comments. He's holed up with Gwen, Felicity, and Olivia in the security office, where they can keep an eye on the plant inside and out. Thea, meanwhile, is perched on another, higher catwalk, guarding us. I look up and see her red bow flash in the dark for a second.

"I can see you, Thea," I say. "Aren't you supposed to be-"

"In the shadows, right." Her bow slides back into the blackness and out of sight.

"Get ready to shoot," Oliver says. "They're about to come in, I think. Wait...what is he doing?"

"Looks like he's headed for the...side entrance?" Olivia asks. Or maybe not - maybe it just sounds like a question because of the way her voice rises right at the end.

"That's not a side entrance," Gwen says. "That doesn't even lead into this building. Look, they've completely bypassed it."

"Uh, we're totally blind here," says Barry. "Someone wanna explain what's going on?"

"You're right," says Felicity. "They're going into..." We hear her clicking away at a keyboard. "Oh crap."

"What?" I ask. "What is it?"

"They're in the generator room," Felicity says. "Does that mean-" As if on cue, the lights go out, and the machines stop churning the water below us.

"Well, shit," Grayson mutters. "Pete, please tell me you also got Spider-night vision."

"No."

"Don't worry," Oliver says. "Backup should be kicking in any second now..." Emergency lighting flickers to life, running far less brightly than the regular lighting. At least our vision's now worth a little more than jack shit.

"Finally," Barry says. "I was about to run down to the auxiliary generator and turn it on myself."

"Only for a velociraptor to come along and chew you to pieces," I laugh.

"Well, there's that." Barry laughs along with me, then switches back to Serious Flash Mode. "Um, all right...do we just wait for Malcolm and Darhk to come in?"

"I don't like waiting," says Gwen. "If I were armed, I'd head outside and snipe Darhk right now."

I gasp. "My dear sweet Gwen Stacy, when did you turn into such a violent creature?"

"Nothing fatal," Gwen says. "I'd just hit him in the knees. Like that Man in the Suit vigilante my dad always talked about before _you_ came along."

"Oh, him?" I snicker into my hand as a popular meme surrounding that same guy comes to mind. "'Get in, loser, we're going kneecapping.'"

"You sound like Batman when you say that," Grayson says.

"Do I really?"

"Okay, okay, guys," Barry whispers. "They're coming back, Felicity says."

"How are you hearing her and not us?" I ask.

"'Cause you're not listening," Felicity says, shushing us.

Silence falls for a while. After a minute, Gwen says, "Heads up, guys - they're coming into this building now."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Grayson swivel around to look down at the entrance. Barry and I copy him, and overhead, I hear Thea do the same, her boots clunking on the catwalk.

"So," Malcolm says as he brings Darhk in. "As you can see, it's just about the same size as the old Lazarus Pit in Nanda Parbat." _Wherever that is,_ I think. Geography's a strong suit of mine, but there are times when I genuinely can't tell if a country is real, or something some fiction writer invented.

"You say that like I want it the same size," Darhk says, crossing his arms. "Don't you realize how grand my plans are?"

"Oh yeah, we definitely do." Constantine closes the door, which he's been hiding silently behind all this time. "You realize how disgusting it is, right? Your plan for your own personal hordes of the undead?"

"Whoever said I wanted an undead army?" Darhk asks. He turns on his heel long enough to see Constantine, then looks back at Malcolm and says, "Don't worry - this isn't the part where I say something like 'I should've known you were playing me, and I would've gotten away with it too, if not for those meddling kids.'"

"Never mind that only two of us around here are kids, creeper," I whisper.

Darhk twitches, and for a horrible second, I think he's heard me. But he keeps his gaze fixed on Malcolm as he continues talking. "And also, rest assured, this isn't the part where I unleash my not-quite-undead hordes on you either. They're taking a bit of much-needed R&R at the moment, for the most part." He slides his phone slowly out of his pocket, then swipes the screen with his thumb a couple of times. "Except for one, who actually got in and out of here already before any of your people arrived."

The second he hits the screen a third time, I yell "RUN!" Because I know what's about to happen even before my Spidey-senses kick in, picking up a vibration somewhere below us. And another. And another. Then, in slow motion to me, three bombs - plastique, I'm thinking - detonate on the edges of the water tank.

The shock wave roars up to us and punches the catwalks up into the air. I fire a webline at the ceiling and grab Barry's arm, with Grayson holding on to the other for dear life as our catwalk crumbles and collapses.

Above us, Thea's catwalk is broken, but not falling. However, she's halfway over the edge, and slipping as her side of the catwalk tips at a precarious angle.

"Grab the line!" Oliver cries over our earpieces.

Thea complies in the last heart-stopping moment before she falls off the catwalk entirely. Once she has a good grip with both hands, she slowly, carefully lowers herself until her feet are almost level with my head. Then she lets go and falls a few feet so Grayson can grab hold of her.

Unfortunately, I think her climb has weakened my webline. As soon as her added weight tugs on my arm, the webline stretches, dropping us closer to the swirling remains of the tank.

They're swirling because the water is flowing freely into a drain at high speed. We can't let go just yet - I need to swing us to safety.

"Hold on, guys!" I tug on the webline and push myself forward, trying to ignore the way the line wobbles more dangerously every second. If I could take my mask off, I would. I'm hyperventilating here, honestly. I've never been this scared before, not even when I had to swing across a bunch of cranes in Manhattan with a bullet wound.

"I thought those things were stronger than steel!" Gwen yells in my ear.

"Not helping!"

The webline frays, then gives way completely. Screaming, we tumble into the water, with barely enough time to take deep breaths.  


End file.
